no such thing as miracles
by everfaithful
Summary: The brothers get word that someone has spotted thier father and he is badly hurt. Only trouble is... John is dead. Set after crossroads, Dean and Sam Angst, Dean whumpage. Not my toys but I do love to play with them.
1. Chapter 1

Sam picked up the cell phone and looked at the caller ID. "Hey, Ellen, what's up?" He was driving 20 miles from nowhere on some back road in Kansas, trying desperately to avoid Lawrence, even though they could crash at Missouri's in a pinch. Sam just wasn't ready to face the past again. He didn't think Dean was either so soon after their father's death.

"Got a call from someone today." She said, not sure how to broach the subject. She wasn't even sure she should use Sam and Dean for this job. Normally this wasn't something that she would pass along to a hunter who was involved in the situation. But she knew the boys, they were like their dad. Involved was the only way it happened and if she let someone else handle it she would have them breathing down her neck when it got back to them. "Sarah Cavanaugh. Down in Tyler Texas."

"We're in Kansas, shouldn't take us too long to get there, what's the job?" He asked and Dean perked up at the words job and not too long to get there.

"Well, she called with the strangest story, said some guy showed up, amnesia, and messed up pretty bad. Has him holed up at her place still."

"Okay, but how is this something we need to take care of?" He asked, heavy brows furrowing, knowing that she was hedging, not wanting to tell the full story for some reason. He could hear it in her voice.

"Sam, " she took a deep breath, "she says it's you're Dad."

Sam hit the brakes. "That's not possible." He said in a harsher tone than he intended, as the wheels locked, leaving skid marks behind them on the road. "You know that's not possible." He looked over at his brother with wide eyes.

"Son of a –" Dean swore, bracing himself against the dash before getting out the passenger's side door. "Scoot over." He told Sammy, grumbling as he walked around the car about car abuse. He got behind the wheel, and readjusted the seat forward several inches.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed indignantly as he banged his knees on the dash, letting Dean take the cell phone out of his hands.

"Hey, see she doesn't like it when you drive, she bites back you know." Dean said and returned his attention to the cell phone. Sam didn't retort, and that caught Dean's attention, almost as surely as Ellen's story. His affect going from perplexed to pained to bland in mere seconds.

"We're on it." He said flatly into the phone. "No… we're good. I'ts not our Dad. We cremated him and salted the remains… It's not Dad. We're on it."

"Dean, you alright?" Sam asked, watching the expressions play across his brother's face, but Dean waved him off.

"Yeah, like I said, we're on it. Let her know we'll be there tonight or in the morning depending on the roads." He hung up the phone, and stared forward for several moments. Long silent moments.

"Dean-" Sam began but was cut off by the sound of Dean's hand slamming into the steering wheel again and again and again. "… You're hurting the car." He said figuring it was the one thing that might grab his brother's attention right now. "Dean…" he said more firmly this time.

"Shut up, Sammy." He said as he turned the stereo up and started the car down the road at somewhat less than legal speeds. Dean fumbled around in his tapes, picking one up looking at it then dropping it to go for another one, all the while repeating himself after every persistent question. "Shut up Sammy… Sam, shut up… I don't want to talk about it Sam… Sam shut the hell up already. "

Sam couldn't help but ask the questions. Who or what could it be that was using their father's face, why would it appear in Texas, who was this woman they were going to see, how did she know their father in the first place? Was it after something of their father's or something of hers? The questions kept coming into his mind and once there making their way out of his mouth much to the consternation of his increasingly irritable older brother.

It was just as Dean popped in the tape he had been looking for that Sam asked the question Dean had been trying to avoid.

"What if it's him?" He asked, looking over at his brother, who simply glared in return and cranked the volume on Ozzy. "Dean I'm serious."

Dean turned the volume up even more and pounding out the beat on the steering wheel, trying to pretend the question had never even been asked, because it wasn't something he was willing to think about.

Mental wounds not healing  
Life's a bitter shame  
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

Sam reached over and turned the volume down, Dean in turn turned it back up, even higher than before, trying desperately to drown out the questions, the possibilities. No one wanted their father back more than Dean. No one alive felt his loss as keenly as Dean did, and that ache inside scared him. He couldn't let himself have the faintest hope that this was John Winchester or he would believe the lies without a second thought. No matter how much he wanted to believe; he couldn't.

"Dean, I am trying to talk here."

He turned the volume up again, this time to the barest edge of the speakers' capacity, the music beating into him as he beat out the rhythm on the steering wheel. Trying to lose himself between those beats. Trying to drive away the nagging guilt and grief.

Heirs of the cold war  
that's what we've become  
inheriting troubles I'm mentally numb  
crazy, I just cannot bear  
I'm living with something that just isn't fair

Sam let go for a time, delving into research, looking for answers to questions that Dean was unwilling to entertain. He couldn't help but hope just a little. It was in him to hope. He had to believe in miracles as well as tragedy.

The trip was a long one, going down back roads, but at least they avoided the turnpikes that way. Occasionally they would talk, and so long as Sam kept the conversation to where to grab food, what supplies they needed for the first aid kit, Dean was responsive. Vague, almost lost, but responsive. Anytime the subject turned to the job at hand the battle would begin once more.

"Shut up, Sammy, shut up Sammy, shut up Sammy, shut up Sammy." He intoned until the words almost had no meaning anymore. Not that his brother acknowledged what he was saying anyway.

"Dude, we have to talk about this." Sam pressed.

"No." He said. "We don't."

"Oh yeah, well how do you expect to deal with the man if you cant even deal with the fact that he exists?"

"I don't." Dean said with a shrug. "There's nothing to 'deal' with. Either it's some poor schmuck that this Sarah chick thinks looks like Dad, or i'ts some demon in Winchester suit. Either way, it's not Dad, there's nothing to deal with. "

"How do we know that it isn't Dad?" Sam asked. "With all the demons and monsters and walking dead we deal with, why is it so hard to believe that there could be something miraculous in the world?"

Dean glanced over at him in disbelief. "Didn't we have this conversation in Nebraska? I mean, hello, faith healer didn't turn out to be such a miracle did it?"

"You're still here." Sam said, the look in his eyes revealing that he still wasn't quite over that scare.

"Yeah, and they murdered someone to keep me alive. What do you think it would take to bring a man back from the dead? Dad wouldn't want that on his conscience anymore than… it's not Dad." Any more than he did. It wasn't John, couldn't be John, because Dean couldn't bear the thought of his father going through that gut rending guilt, of him wishing it had never happened.

"Sometimes its not about what Dad wants." Or what Dean wanted. Sam was sorry someone else had died while Dean was being healed. He really was, but his brother was still here. Dean hadn't been taken from him. That was what mattered to Sam. He knew it was selfish but that was the way it was. "All I'm saying is it's a possibility we have to consider."

"No. It isn't." Dean said as he turned up the volume once more, closing the discussion. He would have gladly died that night in the hospital if it would have meant that John hadn't sacrificed himself. He had cheated death so many times, and every time someone else paid the price for him. It should be about what he wanted, it should be about what John would want. No one should have to live on with that guilt.

They arrived in Tyler, Texas just as the sun was rising. Dean followed the directions he had gotten from Ellen, and half an hour later they were pulling into the long drive of a small ranch.

As he parked the car the front door opened and a middle aged woman stepped out the front door. With her hands on her hips she looked over the car, and then the young men that stepped out of it. "Well if that car isn't another ghost from the past." She said shaking her head. "You must be Sam and Dean. I'm Sarah Cavanaugh."

"Yes ma'am." The brothers said in unison. "I take it you and my Dad were old friends?" Sam asked, not that he could remember the woman at all. He glanced over at Dean who shook his head almost imperceptively.

"Not exactly. He and my husband used to go on hunting trips together. John would come back by here to be patched up. Those two would come home in so many pieces, I swear it was like sewing a crazy quilt some nights." She shook her head. "Poor man, I think that's why he came here now. Some sort of unconscious memory, because he's in pretty rough shape. Looks like he's been hit by a Mac truck." She said as she started to ward the door. "You boys come on in and have a bite. He's resting for now."

The brothers exchanged looks. "Thank you Mrs. Cavanaugh." Dean said with his most charming smile. Usually he sicced Sam on the middle aged mother, and old granny lady types. But he had a bad feeling about this. His spidey sense was tingling all over the place, and he didn't want Sam getting in too close just yet. "Not hungry, really but I could sure use a cup of coffee if that's alright."

Sam followed his brother's lead, taking in their surroundings as they were lead into the house. It was definitely a hunter's home. Salt discreetly placed at the threshold and he suspected the window casings as well.

His trained eye could make out at least five weapons in that room alone. Holy symbols over door ways worked into the simply country décor. So this was what it was like to be a hunter and have a home at the same time? It made him uncomfortable but he wrote it off to jealousy and followed his brother and the woman into the kitchen.

"So how did you find this guy?" Sam asked, as she poured coffee for them both.

She indicated where the cream and sugar was. "Found him out in the back forty, about half in half out of that old well out there." She shook her head. "Your father sure has a will to survive. I don't know too many men that could have made that climb in his condition."

Dean's jaw ticked. He looked into his coffee cup as Sam continued to ask questions.

"Can we take a look at the well?" Sam asked, and Sarah nodded. "Any idea how he got out there?"

"Not a one. I appreciate that you two are all for investigating, but don't you want to see your father?"

"Our father is dead" Dean said finally, looking up from his coffee. "I am willing to admit that this man may look like him to you, and that it's definitely a situation, but that man is not my Dad."

"Dean." Sam said in a gentle admonishing tone, and the slightly older man shook his head as

though to shake off the mood that had settled over him. "Actually I would like to see him." Sam held up a hand as Dean started to protest. "It's been a few years since you have seen him… maybe he doesn't look as much like our Dad as you think he does."

Dean seemed to relax a little then and nodded as well. "Yeah, probably best we start this thing off with a visit to the mystery man himself." He admitted reluctantly. He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to see his father laying there in a bed, helpless, wounded. Not even if it wasn't really his father.

Sarah sighed and shook her head a little in disappointment at their disbelief and started toward the guest room. "Well, come on." She said looking over her shoulder as the brothers lagged behind, looking at each other as though trying to decipher what was in the other's head.

She paused at a door at the end of the hall for a moment then looked back at the young men. "Like I said, he's resting, and he has been through a lot." She admonished. "Whether you believe he is your father or not, the man doesn't deserve to be battered in his condition. He doesn't know anything about himself or how he got here, so asking won't help."

"Right, put away the rubber hoses, and no badgering the witness." Dean said sarcastically. "Got it."

Sarah looked at him through narrowed blue eyes. "You know, of all the things you could have inherited from John, this isn't the one I would be proud of if I were you." She said as she stepped aside.

Dean looked at their hostess and then at the door, clenching and unclenching his hands until the knuckles cracked, unconsciously doing it. He was staring at the door as if it might hold some clue as to what was behind it, without opening it.

Face to face, it had come to this. He had burned his father's body. He was sure of that. Smuggled it out of the morgue. He'd watched his father's heartbeat disappear on the monitor, watched the doctors and nurses step away from John when it was all over. Watched them remove the now useless tube that had been shoved down his throat to force him to breathe.

That whole scene passed before his eyes, seeing them, not the door.

Sam reached for the door knob and Dean grabbed his wrist. "Wait." He said as he pressed his ear against the door, listening inside. For...anything...as Sam looked at him quizzically.

"We're not going to know anything until we go in there." Sam said logically, and gently. Too gently, as Dean's eyes whipped to his brother's before closing down. Hope and fear battling within the hazel green depths. Before they were vanquished into blankness. Then he let go of Sam's wrist and nodded, taking a step back. Nearly a defensive posture.

He watched the door open, cautiously. Sam was being cautious. Dean didn't know if he was being cautious over what could be inside the door, or of Dean. Or of both.

The room would have made Martha Stewart proud, soft colored wall paper with a delicate subtle print, crips curtains, even the bedspread matched the decor. The carpet was thick under his feet as he took a careful step in, muffling any sound his boots would have made as he approached the man on the bed, who was sleeping, or seemed to be.

Battered? Yeah, he was battered. Looked like he'd gone head to head with Rocky, Apollo and Drago all in one movie. But recognizable, causing Dean to sharply intake breath as his eyes widened in shock. He looked at Sam.

"It's not possible."

"Dean, look at him." Sam whispered back, urgently.

"I'm looking."

"But.."

"Don't start, Sammy." Dean said. **Don't get my hopes up. I've had enough dashed in my life. I can't survive another one. Not like this.**

The man on the bed opened his eyes. Didn't do any obvious startling, just opened his eyes, his eyes cutting to the young men at the foot of his bed. Dean's eyes met his for a moment. Just a moment before he turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the room, past Mrs. Cavanaugh, to the outside, holding onto a rail as he retched over the porch.

"Not possible." He said, over and over to himself. It wasn't.

"You should talk to him." Mrs Cavanaugh said from the door, leaning against the open screen door.

"That's not my father." Dean said, wiping his mouth.

"Are you sure? We've all seen some pretty strange things..."

"That's not my father!" Dean nearly yelled. "It can't be." He finished in a whisper. But it was. And he couldn't explain it. He made a life explaining things that couldn't be explained, everything everyone said was 'supernatural' or 'paranormal' was actually quite natural and normal if you could wrap your head around it.

He couldn't wrap his head around this.

He couldn't.

Sam slowly stepped closer to the bed. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. This was his father. "I don't- I don't understand." He said as he gently sat down on the edge of the bed. "how?"

John swallowed hard. "I don't know." He said and cleared his throat. "I should know you." He said as he studied his son. "I know that much but…it's just a feeling, not anything concrete."

Sam nodded. "I … yeah." He said. "I- We… we're you're sons. I'm Sam. That was Dean." He smiled again. "I cant believe you're here. It's okay that you don't remember, you will." He had confidence in that. His father was alive. It shouldn't be. They had destroyed his earthly remains. But here he was, alive, even if not well.

"Your brother doesn't seem too happy to see me." The tone was matter of fact, accepting, not hurt, not pleased.

"He is." Sam said, and his smile broadened at the look his father gave him. It was a purely Dad look. One that spoke volumes of disbelief, and demanded the truth, but it was pure John, and that was somehow reassuring. "We watched you die." He told him, choosing his words carefully. Not sure his father could handle the truth right now. "It's a shock. You two are close, believe me."

John nodded. "Alright. What about you and me?"

It was Sam's turn to look stricken. He swallowed hard and fought to find the words.

"That close, huh?" John said, taking everything in. He didn't remember his life but you didn't forget skills that were hardwired in. You didn't forget how to observe people, even if you didn't remember them.

"We..." Sam struggled with the words, and finally sighed. "We argue a lot. Usually very loudly." He laughed nervously "But…we just, I guess we aren't friends like you and Dean."

John nodded. It felt right. He would have liked to hear that things were different. Didn't like the thought of being distant from his own son, but what was there to say about it? Maybe things could be different now, but he didn't think it was something they could really discuss, just something that had to be made to happen.

Sam nodded in return, letting the silence fall between then, although for once it wasn't an angry silence. "Ahm… how much has Mrs. Cavanaugh told you?"

"Not much. Not anything that makes sense." John told him. "A lot of it makes me wonder if she isn't a little off kilter."

Sam frowned. She had probably been trying to make John remember. Made sense really but it wasn't something he really thought of as wise. It was a shock of some sort that had taken his memories, probably the shock of what ever had brought him back to the living… what ever had reconstituted his body from ash and bone. "She isn't nuts. Wish it were the case but… she's not."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wincing a little as he ran one battered hand through his hair. "Okay… that's going to take some getting used to." He winced again, moving his hand to his chest. "Aah." He breathed, his eyes watering with the pain.

"Dad?" Sam asked. If his father was acknowledging pain it hurt like hell. The man wouldn't tolerate weakness, not even with amnesia.

John looked as though he were about to reply, but choked it back. His eyes suddenly cleared and he reached out for his son's arm. "Sammy, run." He growled out then arched his back and screamed in pain.

"Dad!" He moved off of the bed but only took a step back as he watched his father writhe in pain ."No… no damn it no." He could see the bandages on his chest discolor, darken in a distinctive pattern. "Dean." He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Dean had accepted a glass of water from Mrs. Cavanaugh when he heard Sam yell for him. He put the glass back down on the counter, not noticing that it came crashing right back down as he ran by back into the room.

"Sammy!" Dean said and stopped short when he saw the pattern on the bandages. Dark and nearly blood colored, as if it were soaking through the bandages. "Sam, get back!" Dean said. But he had to know as he tore the bandages off John's chest...revealing bruising and gashes. But the gashes weren't in the same pattern as the sigil that had appeared on the dressing.

And red marks on his chest, from the defibrillator that had been used to try and restart his chest. Angry burns rising up in relief to the blanching skin.

Dean's breath was as nearly ragged as John's as he looked at the bandages, comparing them to the wounds on the chest.

Had this happened to anyone else besides a man who looked like his father, he could have been more level headed. It didn't help to look in his eyes, his father's eyes, even if they were clouded with amnesia and confusion and pain.

Pain, John and pain. John in pain.

Dean was frozen for a moment until his father's back stopped arching and he slumped back on the bed, with Dean still holding the bandages. Mrs. Cavanaugh bustled in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded as she moved Sam aside to go to the bedside. "I told you, you can't be rough with him. He can't take it right now."

"I didn't..." Dean tried to say.

"Get out!" Mrs Cavanaugh said as she reached for more dressing supplies. "You've done enough damage. I knew it was a bad idea to call Ellen."

"But..."

"I said leave! Until you can behave like a human being."

"Dean..." John said, half moan, half whisper. "Go." He gestured at the bandages. "Job." Then he stifled another scream as another fit took him.

"We didn't do it." Sam said in an amazingly authoritative tone. This was his family. That woman may be helping his father but she had no right to accuse. "We're not going far. And we sure as hell aren't leaving the property without him." He did however steer the stunned Dean to the back of the room to give her room to work. He for one wasn't going anywhere until his father stopped writhing in pain. He had died alone once, Sam wasn't going to let him suffer alone now.

"You are standing on my property boy." She pointed out not liking his tone at all. "John… it's alright. " She said in a soothing tone "It's going to be all right. "

"There are hospitals." Dean countered finally finding his center again when his father slumped into unconsciousness, no longer twisting in pain.

Sarah Cavanaugh sighed then. Frustration evident in her tone. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just, when ever he starts to worry at it, you know… starts trying to find John inside that head of his, these fits start. The more you push at him the harder it's going to be on him."

Sam frowned. "I wasn't pushing." He said. "I asked how much you had told him, about things, and then the pain started and he told me to run." He looked at his brother then. "I swear Dean, he was all there where he said it. He called me Sammy. "

"It's not that big a stretch to call someone named Sam, Sammy." Dean countered, as he continued to stare at the sigil on the bandages.

"Sure, if they're 5." Sam countered. "I think that's why the pain started. I think something is trying to keep him from remembering."

Dean frowned deeper and looked at his brother for a minute before glancing toward his father once more, now settling into a relaxed state, breathing evenly. "You said you found him crawling out of some well. Mind if we take a look at it while he rests?"

"Suit yourself." She said as she applied antibiotic ointment to his abrasions before bandaging John's chest. " Head on over to the barn, my foreman should be around there somewhere. His name is Jake. Tell him I said to take you over there."

"We have any climbing equipment in the Impala?" Sam asked.

"Got plenty of rope, we'll make do." Dean said as he finally broke his gaze from his father, and turned to leave the room. "I think you're right, Sammy. The demon wants his brain scrambled."

"How did he get here in the first place?" Sam asked as he followed Dean out the door and to the trunk of the Impala.

"Don't know. Worry about that later." Dean said, stashing the bandages inside his jacket for the time being. "Right now let's find out what's causing the… anti-stygmata."

Sam grabbed the rope. "They may be one in the same." He said as they started walking toward the barn. "If he was found coming up out of that well it might be the point of entry"

"What? A gate way to hell?" Dean asked with his brow furrowed. "That's comforting." He grumbled.

"Dad probably wasn't in hell." Sam said. It was one of those things. He couldn't imagine his father having sex and he couldn't imagine him going to hell. Maybe purgatory but never hell.

"He was in hell." Dean said

"What?"

"He gave himself to the demon to keep me alive." He said matter of factly, as though it didn't bother him. But it did. It ate at him every day. Every time he would think to himself 'that is Dad would have liked something' or wished he could talk to his father, it ate at him. His Dad had died to save him.

It didn't make him feel all warm and fuzzy. Didn't give him that sense of being loved and protected. It was guilt and anger and abandonment all wrapped up into one mother of a knot in his chest.

"Dean, why didn't you t-"

"Don't" was all Dean said, and the word was final. There would be no argument over this one. No string of shut up Sam to follow his incessant speech. The subject was terminated.

Jake stepped out of the barn as they drew near. "We're not hiring." He said as he wiped his hands and mopped at his brow.

"That's okay, we're not applying." Dean said with a lopsided grin, so easily pulled into place even though his insides were ragged and torn. "Mrs. Cavanaugh said for us to come ask you to show us that well… the one our Dad was found at."

"Oh, so you're the Winchester boys." Jake said with a nod. "Gimme a minute and I'll take you out there. If you can ride, feel free to saddle up."

"Nah, we got it." Dean said, memorizing a topography map hanging on the wall. "Come on, Sam." He said, taking the rope from Sam and winding it into tight loops as Jake went to get the horses.

"Can you ride?" Sam asked doubtfully as Jake moved off with a shrug.

"Yeah." Dean said. "A little." Sam gave him a look. "Once."

"Pony rides at the fair don't count." Sam said, and Dean smacked him upside the head for that one.

"Let's go." Dean said as Jake saddled horses and handed them the reigns. "Thanks, dude." Dean said and cleared his throat as he led the horses out of the barn. "Okay, so the map says the well in question is that way." He said pointing. Then he looked the horse up and down. "Okay, let's do this."

It was an awkward mount, but he managed to get in the saddle. "Look at that!" Dean said. "Wow, you're short." He said to his brother, still standing on the ground.

"Jerk." Sam said as he got on the horse and they tentatively led the horses in the direction. "So..."

"Don't." Dean said.

"Dean, we have to talk about this. That's Dad!" Sam said, not about to fall for his brother shutting down the conversation now.

"It looks like him, it sounds like him, I'm not sure it is him." Dean said, hedging.

"Dammit Dean!" Sam said. The horse reared at the temper in his voice and Sam took a breath. "I'm serious. He called me Sammy. He knew you were Dean without anyone telling him. He's in there."

"Okay, we'll go with that. It's him. What's he doing back? What's wiping his memory? How'd he come back? Who's responsible for this?" Dean shot back and waved the bandages in Sam's face. "And what does this mean?"

"Well, that's why we're going to the well." Sam said. "Might be something there."

"Or not and we're just going on another wild goose chase like when we were looking for dad in the first place!"

"And think of all the people we saved then."

"I don't want to save anyone!" Dean said. "I just want my father back." He whispered.

"What?" Sam said, not hearing that. Dean didn't answer, just nudged his horse faster. "Dean, I didn't catch that."

"Good." Dean said. "That's the point of a whisper you know." Sam made a face, coming right against the wall that was Dean. When Dean wanted to shut down. The far less charming Dean that no one else saw, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be flattered that he saw this side and no one else did.

It was a short ride, but would have been a long walk, to reach the well as Dean dismounted, more than happy to be off the beast as he shook himself out. It was a large well, made to support a ranch, with a platform built recently, within the last year. Dean hunched down beside it and looked down, shining a flashlight. Deep down, he could see a watery reflection of the light. Sam knelt down beside him.

"So he was half in, half out." Sam said. "Probably right there." Where there was a blood smudge.

"It's a long drop." Dean said, picking up a rock and throwing it down. It was a good few seconds until he heard the splash. "All right, let's do this." He said, unwinding the rope and tying it around a nearby post.

"Whoa, what makes you think you're going?" Sam said as Dean made a harness with another piece of rope and tied them together.

"Because I'm the oldest, I'm cuter, I'm more athletic..." Dean said. "Any more questions? Good. On belay?" He said with a smirk as he braced himself at the edge of the well.

"On belay." Sam grumbled, slipping on gloves and taking the rope as Dean scaled down the well.

Dean shone the flashlight along the walls as he slowly went down. Normal enough walls, slick, smooth, relatively clean. Then he tugged on the rope to let Sam know not to lower him anymore as he dug the bandages out of his jacket.

"Son of a bitch." He said,comparing the sigil to the mark on the walls. He pulled a glove off with his teeth and touched it with his bare hand, jumping back until he hit the other side of the well. "All right, Sammy, pull me up!" He called out.

A few minutes later, he was taking the harness off.

"Dude, you gotta lay off the cheeseburgers." Sam said.

"Shut up." Dean said and took his gloves off, showing Sam his hand. "Blood." He said. "This symbol is in that well painted with blood."

"Probably Dad's." He said, ignoring the look Dean gave him. Dean was trying to protect himself, but he knew, and Sam knew it. There was no denying that man was their father. "Okay… so let's get back to the house. I'll see if this sigil comes up with anything." He would also send it out to the roadhouse, see what they might have there. Besides, he wanted to tell Ellen that it was actually their father.

Dean nodded and struggled back up into the saddle. He didn't doubt that Sam was right. The man in the bed (his father) had probably put the sigil there. But if he had the man (his father) was either possessed when he did it or had another of his episodes.

"He was probably climbing out." He couldn't imagine the amount of fortitude it would take to do that in the condition the man was in. "Which means he started out in the water. Cause I doubt he went crawling down in there just to paint pretty pictures."

Sam frowned. "So we should look up what we can on the property as well. Well might be cursed now, we should probably do a cleansing ritual on it. Do you think we can trust her?"

"Hell no. But what do I know, right?" Dean said with a shrug. He didn't trust anyone but Sammy right then. If that man was really his father (he was… he knew he was) then once all this demonic crap was settled, he would trust him again too, but right at that moment, not a chance.

"Okay… guess we'll see how Dad reacts to her when he is conscious before deciding what to do with him while we track this down. He definitely wants us to work on this thing."

Dean frowned. He wasn't comfortable with this at all. Something about it was rubbing him the wrong way. "Whether this guy is Dad or not we can't leave him unprotected. Gotta do something to keep what ever that thing is from attacking him."

"It's Dad."

"Sam." Dean said a little sharply "Leave it alone. Please." He frowned. "Besides, can you see Dad laying still in a frigging Better Homes and Gardens reject?"

"I don't think he has choice right now. He's pretty ragged. If it weren't for the sigil on the bandages, I'd have already called an ambulance. He goes into the hospital and that starts happening and we'll be beating off priests, the National Enquirer and who knows how many other freaks? Every time the shrink comes to help him with his memory there goes another seizure." Sam frowned. Seizure. It certainly looked like something was trying to seize his father.

They rode the rest of the way back in silence, returning the horses to the barn and helping to put away the gear. Sam went straight for his lap top, starting to check out the usual sites on demonology.

Dean walked back to his father's room, opening the door quietly. He entered, walking silently on the deep pile carpet and took a seat in the chair by the window, staring at the man on the bed.

He looked like John Winchester. Even the way he breathed when he slept was like John Winchester. God knew that Dean had lay awake on enough nights listening to that sound, making sure it didn't stop. John had come back from the hunt tore all to hell more often than not. Hazard of the job.

Sam had said something about a hospital but this wasn't hospital bad. This was feed him two lortab, a couple of antibiotics and stay awake all night listening bad. This was the sort of bad where Dean used to take Sammy to the park when he was little so that their father could sleep and recover well enough to drive in a day or two.

Had the man crawled up from the water of that well? How had he gotten there in the first place? What was the demon trying to stake his claim so painfully? And when they stopped it… would his father cease to exist again? Would saving him ultimately destroy him?

Maybe it would be better to leave him unaware of who he was. Just let him go through life as John Doe. Maybe there wouldn't be any new scars. Maybe he could have a home, settle down, be at peace. That had been Dean's only consolation when his father had died. That his fight was done and there wasn't going to be any more anger and pain for John. But then that bubble had been burst by a demon who didn't like being cornered into backing out on a deal. Dean had nightmares based on that conversation.

Had he fought his way out of hell and this was the devil coming to take him back? There were so many ways that this could go badly, that he could wind up losing him yet again. Believing was opening the door to pain. Not believing was opening it to regret. He sighed, and tented his fingers in front of his face, tapping his lips to the rhythm of a song he didn't even realize he was thinking of.

"You look like hell." John said simply.

You look like hell.

How many times had John said that to him? Not as many times as Dean had told it to him over the years. When he'd bleed all over whatever motel they were in. When he'd first learned to put stitches in. He remembered, they were gaping and crooked for a while, sometimes they wouldn't hold. And he'd have to do them again, but John would be patient and guide him through it again, with Jose Cuervo acting as lidocaine.

He shook off the memory and managed a weak smile.

"You don't exactly look all that great yourself." Dean said.

"Must be a family trait." John said, closing his eyes again, not knowing where that came from.

But it struck Dean right in the chest. Family trait. It was a family trait, wasn't it? And this man, John, his father, had to bring it up. Had to say it aloud, in that dry John tone. His eyes were closed, so he didn't see Dean pale, or start chewing on his lip as he dropped his hands, but kept them clenched in his lap.

His father. How long had he spent waiting for John to come back, in his childhood? Had he really changed as an adult? Was he still waiting for his father to cross the threshold and make everything all right again? To assure him that things were going to be all right?

But this man was so battered. So hurt and so confused. Was that his job? He didn't want that job, not any more. He wanted to simply be Dean. Quick with the one liners, good with the ladies, and a kick ass demon hunter.

"Yeah." Dean managed. "Must be." And he wanted to push. Wanted desperately to push. But that would bring on another fit, and he'd lose more time. More time with...

He wasn't thinking of that. Of that raw, gaping hole no amount of stitches was going to close that was left where his heart should be. As he watched his father die. Sam thought he was a cynic, but at the core of it was a bead of hope that he constantly tried to shove down.

Hope that tomorrow things really would be okay. They would be better. Because he knew better. He knew all too well what hope got you.

And looking at this man, it was hard not to hope. It was. But he stopped himself as his eyes lidded, trying to fight off the past.

He wanted to push. He wanted to push so badly. But that would bring on another fit. He'd seen one, he couldn't see another one. And he didn't want to put John through that if he could help it. So he sat. In silence. It wasn't a comfortable silence, it was one charged with what ifs? And what was.

John opened his eyes and sat up a little, looking at this man who was his oldest son. Strong resemblance. It was there.

"So you're the oldest." He said finally, making Dean look up from his hands.

"Yeah." Dean said with a nod. That wasn't pushing. That was acknowledging.

"I have two sons."

"Yeah."

"Your mother? I take it we're not together?" John said, looking down at the wedding ring he still wore.

"She died when I was a kid." Dean said.

"Accident?"

"You could say that." He had to be so careful, so careful. John moved the ring around on his finger thoughtfully.

"Did she have blonde hair?"

"She did." Dean said with a nod.

"I loved her."

"You did." Dean said, hiding the choke in his throat.

"I do." John said with a nod, knowing that, even if he couldn't remember clearly.

"Yeah." Dean said, feeling quite witty at the moment.

"You have no idea what to say to me." John said, lifting his eyes from the gold band to look at his eldest son.

Dean was silent for a long moment, with several aborted attempts to say something. "I watched you die." Was what Dean came out with, and realized that was wrong, his face showing he knew that.

"I'm sorry." John said. "So the bandages?"

Dean had to chuckle. Somethings were just in your make up, even if you didn't remember it. Back to The Hunt.

"Sam's looking into it."

Sam sketched the sigil onto a piece of note paper. Tracing the lines over and over as he stared at it. It wasn't familiar to him at all. He wasn't finding it with any of the online sources he normally used. Hunters had a way of disguising their shared research in websites. You just had to know what keys to look for. It wasn't in any of their father's journals either so likely it didn't belong to their favorite yellow eyed demon.

Which complicated matters.

"Maybe it's not a sigil so much as a cipher" He said, getting excited and starting down another track of research. The difference was miniscule in literal definitions of the words but to Sam the difference between Seals, Sigils and Ciphers were hard and fast and miles apart.

A sigil was an identifying marker, a makers mark or the equivalent of knowing something's true name. A sigil cut out the guess work on a demon's name. Sam preferred them for the summoning process. Although he avoided that like the plague.

Seals were hard core magic. Kabbala, hermetic order shit that any one could use even if they didn't know what they were doing. And people not knowing what they were doing was responsible for a good deal of what he and his brother hunted down. One stroke off, one dot out of place, a smudge and what ever it was you were trying to bind was free.

Then there were ciphers. If seals were big magic, controlled magic, ciphers were small. At least in the execution. Like bind runes it was a series of runes of power, melded together into one image. Each individual rune drawn and cast, and the next laid over it, and cast until the final image was the combined force of all. Something completely different than the sum of its parts yet each of them fully activated with in. It was old magic. It had the potential to be nasty magic if in the wrong hands, and since it was appearing in blood and agony, he doubted it was in the hands of the good guys.

His cell phone rang "Yeah" He clipped as he started to research bind runes at various sites. Several forms used that process, which made it even more difficult to track down.

"Hey, Sam. How you holding up?" Ellen asked. She, like Dean, had her doubts and was beginning to doubt the wisdom of sending the boys out there in the first place.

"I'm fine. Was about to call you anyway." He said and yawned, shuddering a little to shake off the drowsiness. Wasn't the first time he had stayed up all night on a job, and this was more important on a personal level than most. "It's Dad. I know what you're thinking, but it is. Problem is something has hold of him. It's keeping his memory blocked, any time he tries to remember it sends him into this… seizure. " He left off the part about the cipher appearing on his chest. He didn't want Ellen making any wrong assumptions and sending someone out here to finish things.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Was all she said, leaving Sam more room to talk.

"Yeah… there's cipher we found at the place Mrs Cavanaugh found Dad. I'll send it to you guys and see if anyone you know recognizes it. " He switched over to the paint program and began to work on creating the image one square at a time. It was slow work, but it gave him something to do while waiting on responses and search engines.

"Ignore anything in red, the black is the image. I don't want to send it in its pure form since we don't know what it is."

"Appreciate that. Might have to hurt you if you suddenly turned stupid on us" She said, and Sam could hear the smile in her voice. "Anything else you need us to do?"

"Nah. I will let you know though. I appreciate the help Ellen."

"Any time." She said. She had her issues with John, some of which had spilled over onto his boys but they were good kids, and John, well he was John. Not much anyone was going to do about that. Apparently not even kill him.

Sam hung up and finished his work on the sigil, making red marks in places that wouldn't detract from the image but altered it enough to make it safe to send in an email. He was glad they had connected to Ellen . Sam didn't know why Ellen was upset with his father. Dean had kept that to himself. Like most things that would bother Sam, Dean kept it from him. Sheltering him even now.

He poured himself another cup of coffee and settled in to doing more research, this time on the property itself.

"You should get some rest" John told his son.

"Isn't that my line?" Dean asked in return.

"All I do is sleep."

"You'll get better." There it was again. That kernel of hope, trying to sprout inside him like a weed.

John shrugged. "You still need to get some rest. You boys are going to have to leave soon. If there were any answers here they would have been found already."

"I'm not going anywhere"

"Dean-"

"No Dad." There. He had said it. He had called him Dad. Now he had to believe right? Had to hope? No… hope was evil. Hope was what took your breath away and left you standing with nothing but a gaping hole where it used to be. Hope was what made people do foolish things.

John smiled a little. It was a John smile, not the beaming happy smile of a man with no sorrow, no fear in his life. But it was a good smile for John. "That sounded good." Some how he knew that he had been missing that sound. Had been lost some how in a place where he had never thought to hear that sound again. "You still have work to do though. You can't sit around here and wait for your old man to get up and go with you this time."

"Why not?" Dean asked, already feeling that hope crack, knowing some how that his father was trying to say good bye again. He couldn't take that again.

"Because it's going to be a long time before I get out of this bed and stand on my own. Because I would get you killed out there. We both know it. Not sure how I know it, but I do."

Sam looked at the website and smiled. Of course it made sense that his father would come up through a well. Mythical gateways between this world and others. Sometimes fairies, sometimes monsters…sometimes the underworld itself. Wells that were found where they didn't believe there should be water were supposed to be the most powerful.

Sam remembered the geological/ topographical map out in the barn and headed that way at a run.

"Where's the fire?" Jake asked

"Not sure." Sam said not really thinking about what he said. He grinned looking at the map then stepped outside and looked around. The property was green, lush, fertile by all appearances. But the land across the road was only green a short way in, then turned the same dirty dusty brown as the rest of the landscape, the normal look of things in the middle of august in Texas.

Sam took a horse and headed back out to the well. He wanted to check on something before interrupting Dean. The more time Dean spent with their father the better. They needed each other. Dean had been the walking wounded since his father had died. Like the life had been sucked out of him instead of their father. He had put on a good mask of being the old Dean, but Sam had seen through it.

There were a number of things Sam had inherited from their father. His complexion. His temper. And his ability to read Dean like an old familiar book. Dean wasn't hiding anything from Sam. It was good for Dean to be in there, he needed it, in a way that Sam could see but couldn't truly fathom.

He dismounted as he got to the well, looking at the land around it. All the trees near at hand were starting to lose their glow. There were dead leaves littering the grown as though it were late fall rather than late summer. Some of the limbs were already barren.

The grass was brown in patches. Those patches become more frequent the closer you got to the well. The ground close to the base was hard packed and lifeless. Something you didn't normally think of in the late summer. Except that the rest of the property was lush, why the patch near the well?

Sam fiddled in his pocket and pulled out what had once been a bottle of nasal spray. Now it contained holy water. Not much – but enough to get something out of his face if need be. He knelt down beside the well and sprayed the holy water at the base near the dead earth.

At first he thought it would do nothing. Not really sure what he thought it was going to do when he had done it. But then the sound came. The sound of scrabbling and screeching, the sound of wind centering on the well. Sam backed away, aiming for the horse, and escape, but the horse had ideas of its own and took off at a gallop.

Sam took his eyes off of the well long enough to look at his escape racing off and that was when the first hit him. "Ow!" He exclaimed and looked down to see a dazed bird falling to the ground, a sparrow. He lifted his eyes and saw them pouring forth like a living tornado. Screeching loud enough to almost deafen him.

John scratched at his chest, his expression suddenly troubled.

Deans eyes widened "Dad-? " he asked fearing the worst, but John shook his head, waving him off.

"Where's your brother?" He asked still frowning.

"He was in the kitchen when I –"

He didn't finish the sentence, didn't get the chance. John interrupted abruptly, sharply. "Go find your brother. Now"

Dean was out of the chair and out the room before John even finished. What the hell was Sam doing now? Into the kitchen, Sam wasn't there.

He brushed past Mrs. Cavanaugh and ran outside. No Sam. At least the Impala was still there. Then he ran toward the well, not even bothering with a horse.

A full on, break neck run that left him gasping as he found his brother by the well. With...sparrows coming out of it?

"Sam!" Dean said, grabbing Sam and pulling him back.

"I'm fine." Sam said, waving Dean off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean demanded.

"How's Dad?" Sam asked instead.

"A little concerned about you. Doesn't even have to have his memory back to know you're getting in trouble."

It was so easy to fall back on that word. Dad. He'd used it aloud. He'd thought it several times. That man in there was his father, their father, John Winchester. Somehow. And it had to do with this freaky ass well.

Sam nearly smiled a little at that poke. "Sounds like him." Sam said as they moved away from the well, as the sparrows started to slow down. "Sent it to Ellen." He said, meaning the sigil.

"And?"

"And I didn't find anything." Sam said. "It might not be a sigil. I think it might be a cipher."

"Wonderful." Dean said, still catching his breath. Sometimes he felt like all the times he'd nearly died, and should have died, were trying to catch up to him. Times like these, when his heart was racing in his chest and his lungs didn't want to breathe normally. But his breathe was finally caught and he looked at Sam. "We have no idea what we're dealing with here and you go off alone? This isn't a normal hunt!"

"Dean, I know that..."

"Don't 'Dean' me." Dean said. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but no hot dogging cowboying."

Sam scratched his head and gave his brother a look. "So who's going down?"

"Me." Dean said. "I went down once, I'll go again." Just in case there was something freaky down there. Nothing freaky ever really wanted its way with Dean. Just Sam and John. Which made him the safer bet as he grabbed rope they'd left behind earlier. "Don't suppose you have a flashlight on you?" Sam shook his head, this had been a lark, he hadn't planned it all that well. Dean sighed and shook his head as he got out his zippo, there was enough fluid on it. "Dad wants us to leave." He said as he tied a harness on.

"What?"

"Well, he knows the answers probably aren't here, and he can't come with. NOt with how he is now." Dean said. If he didn't know what he knew, he would have suggested taking him to the roadhouse. But he couldn't ask Ellen and Jo to look after John, not after what happened with John and William Harvelle. He wasn't even sure he'd trust them to do so appropriately come to think of it. And John seemed comfortable with Mrs. Cavanaugh, though the jury was still out on that one. "On belay?"

"On belay." Sam said, grabbing the rope. "So we're really just going to leave him here? We can't do that Dean. He's our father and he needs us."

"He needs us to figure out what's going on." Dean said, his voice taking on a hollow and echoing quality as he was lowered back into the well. "So, sparrows."

"Yeah, makes sense. Sparrows are often psychopomps..."

"Which are harbingers of the undead, bringing the dead back to the world of the living and the living to the world of the dead. I know." Dean interrupted. "You're not the only literary braintrust in the family."

"Myspace, dude. Myspace."

"Shut up and give me some slack on this rope. So dad comes out of this well, and he's followed by sparrows. Or he could have been brought by sparrows previously. The way Dad is, I don't even think he could scale these walls without some help." Dean said as he braced his feet on the wall to slow down his ascent as he scanned the walls with his zippo. "He's pretty tore up."

"Guess that can happen when a body is remade from scratch." Sam said thoughtfully.

"No, some of his wounds are combat wounds." Dean said. He would know. He knew what combat wounds looked like on his father. "Like he fought his way out of here or something." He was looking for any marks of struggle. Any claw marks. Anything that would give him some clue.

Below the first mark he had found, fading now, he found another. A map.

"Sam, I found something. I need a light, I can try to capture it on my cellphone, but I need more light."

"We don't have anymore light." Sam reminded him.

"Dammit." Dean said. "Then go get some more light."

"Dude, I'm not leaving you hanging down there."

"Sam, if I leave it might disappear." It had happened before.

"Well, I'm not leaving in case another scene from 'The Birds' happens."

"Good point." Dean said and took a couple of pictures, providing as much light as he could from his lighter.

Sam pulled his brother out of the hole "Next time I'm going to be the one on the end of the rope." He grumbled, helping his brother out of the well.

"There isnt going to be a next time Sam." Dean replied and took a look at the pictures before undoing the make shift harness. They were probably as clear as they were going to get.

"Looks like a map of the waterways. Kinda blurry though"

"Yeah, wasn't exactly clear down there. I think it was starting to degrade." Dean said. "Not sure if it's what we need but its something"

"We need to purify the well"

"They can do that themselves." He said anxious to get moving on this, and not thinking on a supernatural level.

"Dean, look around you." Sam said. "It's killing everything. We can't have that here…not as Dad's primary water source."

"You think this is because of that cipher on the wall down there?" He asked and swore as Sam nodded. "Okay. Gonna need to run into town to get supplies for it though. I don't usually carry that shit with me." If he carried everything he needed for every occasion they would be driving a moving van, not the Impala.

Sam peeked in on their father, to reassure him he was alright, and set up his research materials in there while Dean went into town, and his father dozed. He smiled up at Mrs. Cavanaugh as she brought in lunch for the two of them.

"How is the research coming?" She asked as she helped John to sit up and propped him up into an upright position with pillows.

"Slow but it's coming. We're gonna have to cleanse your well. Whatever is attacking Dad has tainted the well, it's starting to kill things off. Dean went to get supplies for it." He figured that much he could tell her. It was her well after all.

She looked worried then. That well was the life's blood of her ranch. If it went down so would they financially, they could lose the ranch. "Well, I appreciate your help."

Sam shrugged. "It's what we do." He said looking back down at his computer, not seeing the look of pride in his father's eyes.

John was pleased that his boys could do things like they did and be so off handed about it when others thanked them. He figured there were a lot of people out there that would milk it for all it was worth. But not his boys. He must have done something right along the way. Damned if he could remember it though, and he knew better than to dig for it.

Things bubbled to the top all on their own and he latched on to those bits of knowledge with both hands but didn't follow it down for more. He hated it. Knew that if he could just focus long enough he could batter through whatever was keeping his memories locked away. But his body couldn't take the devastation that came with it. He might have been able to fight it all the way before, to hell with the outcome, but not now. He couldn't kill himself that way in front of his boys. He couldn't die on them a second time.

Sarah helped John eat, and he hated that too but he was grateful. The bed was too confining. His own body was too confining. But before long he was sliding, fighting the whole way, into sleep, and Sarah was clearing away the lunch dishes.

"What happened to Mr. Cavanaugh?" Sam asked looking up from his computer.

She paused, as if surprised by the question but then smiled slowly. "Heart attack." She said. "Lost him almost 4 years ago now. You would think with what he did it would be on a hunting trip but it wasn't. " She glanced over at John in the bed. "They were an awful lot alike. Forceful, no nonsense men." She looked back at Sam. "I think he would have preferred to go out with a bang. Hunting, saving lives. " She shrugged. "But we don't always get what we want out of life. The trick is to want what we have. A whole lot of sadness in the world because people don't seem to be able to be satisfied with the hand life deals them."

Sam looked down at that moment. He supposed that was true. Not just in the realm of the supernatural where demons would trade you your heart's desire for your soul. But in the simple things too. Would that have made a difference in his relationship with his father? Or had Sam been right to want and need more from life than blood and death.

She excused herself, closing the door behind them with an audible click.

Dean returned a few hours later. Some supplies he had to drive to another town to get. He had picked up lunch while out and downed three coffees with a 4th resting between his legs as he drove back to the ranch.

This whole gig was one big scary mess, and they hadn't even seen the bad guy yet. No one died unless you count that poor sparrow that kamikazeed himself on Sam's impossibly hard head. Yet this scared him. Reached down into his gut and twisted it up.

A man had come back from the dead. Generally that was bad. Generally what came back was something evil inside of someone that had once been good. It was rare that it turned out to be the person you wanted it so desperately to be. But everything in him said that was his father. Not some zombie, or a possessed corpse. That was his father. Sans a few memories but it was John Winchester. It was the core of John Winchester with the walls and sharp edges cast aside in return for a memory like cheesecloth.

What if he was wrong? What if this was another attempt to get at Sammy? What if he was going to have to hunt his own father? That thought alone made him very nearly pull over and leave his lunch on the side of the road.

This was the point when hope started to kill you. When the logic and doubt came calling, hope made you push them out the door until it was too late and you were pulling a Thelma and Louise off the nearest cliff chasing your hope all the way down. He would just have to juggle both. Logic and hope, even if it made him feel disloyal. Believe that it was his dad but be prepared to protect Sam every step of the way.

He parked the car in front of the house pushing his doubts and fears to the side because there was a job to do. They had a well to cleanse and a bad guy to ferret out somehow…some way, so that he could get his father back.

Dean spent a long moment in the car, in silence. Perfect nearly peaceful silence. The Impala was off, the rumble of the engine died off. The radio was off, his cell wasn't ringing. There was no noise whatsoever except for his own breathing and his fingers moving idly over the steering wheel as he looked at the house.

His father was in that house, his brother was in that house. It was reason enough to go in...except Sam and John weren't arguing. Not even close to it. They were peacefully co existing in the same room. He couldn't remember the last time that happened, usually there was some crackle to the air, even when they were quiet. Like a fight just waiting on the edges to start.

But not today. Today was a day of quiet, even as everything was boiling inside him, threatening to run over at any moment. It was so hard to keep himself in check right now, when everyone really needed him to stay in check. To stay the Dean they depended on. The Dean who had it together.

So he'd be the Dean that had it all together as he got out of the car and got the bag out of the back seat. Supplies. Took a while to find them all, couldn't exactly go into a store and say "yeah I need this and that to purify a well of a potentially evil spirit..."

"Hey." He said softly, coming in the room where Sam was researching and John was sleeping. "He's sleeping again?" He said, putting the bag down on a table and stealing the other half of Sam's sandwich.

"Yeah." Sam said, eyes fixated on the computer. "He needs his rest."

"Huh." Dean said. He was never used to his father sleeping, especially sleeping so much. But the afternoon's fading light didn't cast that great a view on John, with the bruises and the gashes and various other lumps and bumps and crevices that shouldn't be there.

"Huh?" Sam asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"Huh." Dean confirmed as he pulled up a chair. "So what do we have?"

"If that was a map of waterways, we've got some good hits." Sam said, bringing up the relevant pages. "Long map though. If it was accurate."

"Told you to get me a flashlight." Dean said, taking the mouse to scroll down different pages.

"Dean..."

"I know, I know."

"Got the cleansing supplies?"

"In the bag." Dean said as he sat back and looked over at John. Back to his brother, but his eyes kept drifting over to his sleeping father. Almost as if he stopped looking, John wouldn't be there. He'd disappear in the same flash he had reappeared in.

"Then we should do that." Sam said, his voice dragging Dean back to the present.

"Right, then we'll hit the road." Dean said, standing back up. All business. Business was easier.

"We should wait for him to wake up."

"Let's just get the well taken care of." Dean said as he left the room. Sam looked at John and his departing brother. Most of the time he appreciated how quickly Dean could get down to business, but...Sam didn't know. Maybe he was still longing for some long delayed overlooked family bonding. He couldn't do it while John was alive, or previously alive, but maybe he could do it now.

So it confused Sam that Dean wasn't jumping on it, but figured his older brother had his reasons. He always had reasons, even if they didn't make sense to anyone else but Dean.

"All right." Sam said, shutting the lap top down and following him outside, where they drove the Impala out to the well.

They set the stage in silence. Each knowing what needed to be done and doing it. Neither of them wanting to think about what might happen when this was done. Not letting themselves ponder how much their father is connected to this well and the desecration there. They had a job to do and their father would want it done, damn the consequences.

Sam held out hope that it might free him completely. But that was Sam. He was the optimist, the feeler. Willing to let himself feel the pain so that he could experience the hope fully. Maybe that was because Dean had sheltered him so much.

Their father had set Dean over him as a guardian, a protector, but it was Dean that had taken it a step farther. Dean had protected him from things emotionally as well. Allowing him to grow up with that softer, gentler side that drove Dean to distraction when it was focused purely on him, but then it was that part of Sam that John and Dean both needed in their lives. Why the world had seemed to fade a bit with him away.

The brothers looked at one another and nodded, and each with their own journal stepped to the appropriate places, and began to read in loud authoritative voices. The words seemed to ring through the evening air, as their voices mingled in pitch, meter, tone. The ritual took hours, but neither brother tired, nor glanced back to the ranch house. Neither listened for the sounds of Mrs. Cavanaugh crying out for them to stop or the sounds of their father's cries. Not that either would have reached their ears at this distance if they had been uttered at all.

They canted the last of the ritual, Dean snuffing the candles in order, and Sam knelt pouring salt into the box that was the receptacle and sealing it closed. They drove the Impala to a near by cross roads. The things were conspicuously all over every where in the south. It gave Dean the cold horrors really. But there was more than one use for burying something at a cross roads. Originally it was to confuse the spirit so that it couldn't find its way back.

"So do you think-"

"Sam don't start. I havent had any sleep since night before last and we just did one hell of a ritual, can't we let things just… be… for now."

"Dean…turn the car around and go back to the house." Sam said. A lump formed in his throat at the tormented look in his brother's eyes. "If we don't, we'll never know. Besides, neither of us is up to driving tonight."

They slipped back into the house quietly. Sam started instinctively for the guest room, but Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and directed him to the family room in the basement where the sofas had been made up into make shift beds. He wasn't able to face his father's room just yet. He was too tired. Too raw. Bad news right now was not something he could take. He didn't know that it would be any easier in the morning but right now he knew he couldn't handle it.

Sam closed down the lap top and put it into his bag "okay… this is one of your old cell phones" he told his father "every one still thinks you are dead so you shouldn't be getting a lot of calls except from us."

John looked at the device and nodded, setting it on the night stand. "Alright" he said. He was glad to see them go, relieved. He didn't know why it should settle in so emphatically that it was GOOD that they were going, when he also ached inside at the thought of it.

"Our numbers are on speed dial so… if you remember anything or have anything you know… you … wanna talk about" Sam said, and gave a soft laugh when his father raised an eyebrow and almost smiled.

"I'll be alright, Sammy."

Dean felt worse about leaving than he had about coming, and yet he was anxious to be out on the road. His dad looked better than he had before they had gone down to the well, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. He had hopes that the seizures had stopped with the cleansing of the well but he wasn't willing to put his dad through that pain again if they had failed.

"we should get on- " his cell phone rang and he rolled his eyes "the road " he finished as he opened it "Hey Ellen." He nodded "that's great" he said as he searched his pockets for a scrap of paper and stole a pen from sams coat pocket. He turned his brother around and put the paper on his back "Right… okay… how long ago?"

Sam looked over his shoulder in bemusement "What?" he asked only to be shushed by Dean.

Mrs Cavanaugh cleared away the lunch dishes, standing at the door, looking on for a moment as John wiped at his face, sighing. "you're over tiring him" she admonished "Make it short" she told them.

"And take care of the car." John said as he closed his eyes. He was so tired. Was he this tired in his 'old' life? Was this what it meant to be John?

Dean had to chuckle. "We'll take care of the car." He assured his father. Probably wasn't wise to tell him the truck was sitting in Bobby's yard right now, might bring on a fit as John tried to remember his truck. So Dean kept his mouth shut. "We've got a lead, we'll check in. Come on Sammy." Dean guided Sam out of the room and handed him a piece of paper. "Dallas, dude. Ellen got a hit on it, well, the geek did. Used outside a bar that sane people don't go to. And with the moon being full tomorrow night, well, we got a lot of black top to cover and not a lot of time."

"Dallas? They usually stay away from crowded areas." Sam said, looking over the paper and Dean's quickly scrawled chicken scratch.

"Hey, I didn't make this up." He said as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He looked at Mrs. Cavanaugh. "Take care of our old man for us. We'll call. Often."

"Will do." Mrs. Cavanaugh said. "At least now he can get some rest."

Sam followed Dean out of the house and looked over his shoulder " you know, I am liking her less and less by the minute"

"yeah, me too." Dean said as he got behind the wheel "lets get this thing solved so we don't need her anymore.

He popped in a tape, turned it up to a pleasantly loud volume and started down the road, headed for Dallas.


	2. Chapter 2

Urban Harvest

The hotel room was small, as usual, stuffy, as usual, and cheap. Which was fortunate for whom ever actually got stuck with the bill. Although the real draw of the place was that it was across the street from Harlan's Bar and Grill. Although from the look of it Sam wasn't so sure the grill wasn't more of a reference to a car part than a kitchen.

The back lot behind it was filled with old cars, guarded by two large black dogs, although Sam couldn't place the breed. The side walls were painted with age old murals, he figured they dated back to the 60s. The paint was chipped and cracked, bubbling over old cinder block walls. There were no windows on the side of the building and those at the front were painted over red, with neon lights proudly announcing that Budweiser was served within.

Sam didn't unpack. He never did anymore. Didn't see any point. He settled down on one of the beds and kicked off his shoes, while dialing a number on his cell phone. He frowned a moment. "Hey, Mrs. Cavanaugh, we just got into the hotel, where's my Dad?" he thought it was strange that she had answered the cell phone. "Really, wow, he's sleeping a lot don't you think?" he sighed "Yeah, but he ne- no I suppose not. Look when we call if he's asleep or doing something just let voicemail pick it up. He can get to it when he is able. Thanks. Bye" he said and closed the cell phone. "I really hate that woman."

"He's sleeping again?" Dean said with a frown. "And she answered his cell phone? I really hate that woman. He would love to be woken up to take a call, and you know how he is about his cell phone." Dean shook his head, even if he wasn't up to talking, he still would have liked to know that Dean and Sam arrived on time safely. There was a certain unguardedness about John now, coming back from the dead in a reconstituted body definitely knocked down some walls Dean forgot he had. It was just normal to him.

Sure, it was disconcerting right now. But what was really annoying was Mrs Cavanaugh and her 'he needs his rest' schtick. Like a freaking broken record.

He dumped his weapons onto the bed and started checking them. Just in case. MIght have to take out the dogs after all. Big black dogs, and Dean never did like black dogs very much.

"So it's freak city over there." Dean said. "Should be fun, right? Moon comes up, that's when we go in. They'll be too busy doing whatever it is they do in there then. Party should be in full swing."

Sam nodded, starting to browse the local news paper archives on line. "is this what he was like before Mom died?" he asked his brother "Minus the sleeping all the time, of course" he had notice an almost elemental change in his father. He was still the same man, still taciturn, still direct in his speech, but the sadness seemed to have left his eyes. He came much closer to smiling now than before. There wasn't that edge of anger and grief lurking behind his eyes.

Sam frowned focusing on the news article from a month previous, dark brows knitting together as he took the search back another 28 days.

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed "I was awfully young, Sam." He said, not really sure what the man was like then. What did 4 year olds really know about their fathers? Did he tickle Dean at appropriate times. Yes. Did he read good bedtime stories? Usually. Did he love them and their mom? Definitely. But Dean couldn't tell you if he was open and trusting back then anymore than he could tell you the mans politics or belt size. "Its not good. Him being like this. No matter what you are thinking in that fluffy head of yours."

"dude, so not fluffy."

"you're fluffy" Dean said as if there were no doubt "He cant live like that. Without his memories and skills. Too many things out there would want to finish what the demon started. Its all well and good to be free of the past, but not when its coming to hunt you down. "

Sam didn't respond to that. He didn't agree but knew there was no point in arguing. They could protect their father until he relearned skills. It was just… there was no pain in his eyes except for the physical and Sam couldn't remember ever seeing his fathers eyes smile with him before.

"I'm not fluffy" He said and turned the lap top around for dean to see. "the last 2 months there have been people turning up dead. Not your usual dead, eviscerated dead. The bodies turn up in a place called green belt park on the trinity river. There looks to be one body found for each night the moon is full, so we have 6 so far. "

"You're fluffy." Dean said as he looked over the lap top. "All right, they've been found in bad shape, in easy walking distance from this bar...tell you what, I'll go check it out, see what I find, and then we'll go from there."

"dean, you're not suggesting going alone."

"Dude, I'm going alone. I can get way better information without you moping in a dark corner."

"I don't mope, and you don't get information, you get phone numbers."

"Don't hate the playa, hate the game."

"I hate that phrase, and you're a little too...um...pale...to use it."

"Dude, whatever." Dean said as he grabbe dhis jacket. "I'll just take a quick sniff around and see what I find, you keep doing your research, see if you can get your hands on the morgue reports for us. Might give us a better idea. Sacrifices can go so many ways." From tying the victim up and letting the animals go to town, to manually removing a heart so it beats in your hands...these types of people were seriously whacked.

Sam scowled at his brother and started sifting through fake ids to see what would work best if he decided to go to the morgue directly.

Dean stepped into the bar and removed his shades. It was a dive. Reminded him of the place in Road house before Swayze showed up to kick ass. Down to and including the chicken wire around the stage.

But you could tell by looking at the aging fixtures that the place had been something once upon a time. The booths were cracked and faded, the wallpaper was yellowed over by years of nicotine. The place smelled heavily of stale booze and cigarette smoke. But it was the floor that caught his attention. In the center of the tiled floor was the cipher.

Deans breath caught in his chest and he felt his eyes drawn toward the pattern and he cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment and lifting his head so that when he opened them again he wouldn't be drawn to it again.

"Hey" He said as he stepped up to the bar, smiling at the girl on the other side.

Sam opted for the indirect direct approach. He entered the morgue as a repairman, but once left to his own devices shrugged out of the work shirt and pulled on a near by lab coat, clipping the fake ID onto his lapel.

He was cautious. This was a big city, and that usually meant that people were much more security conscious. Making his job that much harder. But while the computer files were locked down tighter than fort knox, The paper files were much easier to get to.

He folded the important pages and slipped them into his pocket, before beginning to dig deeper in the files.

It wasn't often that Dean found someone taller than his brother. Unfortunately it seemed that every time he did, the man was out to hurt him in some way shape or form. Something about him just seemed to rub the wrong way. "must be the Winchester charm" he muttered as he hit the floor. "Look man, I'm sorry, I didn't know she was your sister."

Dean started to get to his feet, only to be brought back to the floor again by a boot to his ribs. "Dude, back off, now" he said in a dangerous tone. He had been playing nice so far. But he was getting tired of being the bouncy ball in this freaks game.

He got to the half way point and as the man moved to kick at him again he grabbed his leg and twisted it sharply, not quite to the breaking point, and shoved him to the floor. "I said I was sorry and I said back off. I mean it."

Len curled around his knee, calling Dean everything but a white man, and three of his buddies came to the rescue. Herding him toward the center of the room, all the while putting up a good front of kicking the shit out of him. Dean landed on the floor again. He turned over to push himself back on his feet, and found himself face to face with the cipher.

The room seemed to spin out of control then, and he clutched at his chest willing the air back into his lungs. God he felt so weak, and… oily… filthy. Crawling his way out of the circle was like crawling through quicksand. It took effort to focus on moving forward, and he didn't even realize that the fight had stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

The last inch of him crossed the barrier and he could feel it release him. "Son of a –" He said and took an experimental deep breath, relieved to find that he could.

One of the men offered him his hand "you alright? " he asked.

Dean looked at him suspiciously but too his hand and let the ole boy pull him up. "Yeah…guess I uh … shouldn't drink and fight"

"you're not driving are you?" the girl behind the bar asked, the girl who had been the cause of all this ruckus in the first place.

"no… I'm good. " he said, still trying to get his bearings, refusing to look at the cipher again. Trying not to notice that all eyes in the room were focused on him, with something akin to horror in their eyes. He wasn't sure what had happened but it had apparently made as much of an impact on the audience as it had himself.

Dean coughed a few times as he accepted a beer from the girl. He didn't need to physically cough, but just the memory of something oily trying to shove itself down his throat, at least it felt that way, was enough to make him cough and gag. He settled for coughing, to keep his beer down.

Everyone was staring at him, and trying not to at the same time. Made him...disconcerted. He didn't like being disconcerted as he adjusted his shoulders and made sure his cell was still on him, waiting for Sam to call. With...something. Always keeping his eyes away from the floor where the cipher was.

This place stank of more than cigarettes and booze, Dean realized as he drank his beer. It was the smell of old blood below it all. Underneath everything else rank in the air, he swore he could smell old blood.

Old blood was never good, it usually led to new blood. And he hated the idea that he could be the new blood that would be spilt here.

He needed air, that's what he needed, so he smiled at the girl and headed out for air, he was stopped by a few big guys.

"Hey, I don't want any trouble." He said with his hands up. He'd had enough trouble already. This wasn't the usual bar fight, they weren't trying to kick his ass, they were instead trying to corral him somewhere. Over there. Near the cipher.

It was like a devil's trap for humans.

They pushed and shoved Dean back toward the cipher. They were forceful, and even when Dean began to fight them they didn't hurt him. Now they were almost careful of him, even if forcing him along their chosen path.

Once across the outer circle, Dean groaned and sank to the floor almost as though he were being pulled downward. He pulled himself toward the edge once more, but his escape was blocked by a pair of size 13's "I told you, I didn't know she was your sister." He said with an attempt at a laugh, but gagged instead. "okay guys, fun is fun and done is done, so… let me out of here."

They stood there, just watching him, "okay boys… this is creepy, don't make me kick your collective asses" He said curling around himself, and trying not to throw up. His hand snaked into his jacket, keeping the cell phone hidden there as he hit speed dial for Sam

Sam answered the phone quickly hoping that no one had heard it ring. "Dean this is

messed up. They were eviscerated as in everything exploding out ward." He thought he was telling his brother.

"so what is this thing?" He heard Dean ask in a muffled voice "Sure as hell not something I would want as a dance floor. Sucking the life out of your customers cant be

good for business."

"Dean?" Sam said, no longer caring if people heard him. "Dean, hold on." He said as he left quickly, s hoving what he needed into his coat. Leave it to Dean to think going in there alone was a great idea. Excellent idea, he's talking about something sucking the life out of him.

He kept the phone line open as he raced to the bar. "Dammit!" He said as he ran into a bottleneck. Figured, fates would screw with him right here, right now.

"Is he the one?" The sister asked her brother. "Is he?"

"can't tell. Coulda just been luck." The brother said with a shrug of big wide shoulders.

"First you...then you...then you...and if you don't run...you." Dean said between gasps

as he pointed to men around the circle. "Gonna make your mothers cry I'm going to kick your asses so hard." Get out of the circle, get out of the circle, that's all he had to do. Did it once, he could do it again. He had to do it again. He wasn't dying right here,right now. Not after everything, that would just be too wrong. He got one leg out, and managed to keep it out. That leg he could move as he needed, which kept it from being thrown back in.

He'd have to clean his boots after this, that much was for sure as he got the other leg out. Gave him leverage, even as they were shoving him in. A hand outside the circle, he curled it around someone's leg. They didn't seem to want in that circle anymore than he wanted to be in it. So if they were going to keep him in it, they'd have to join him.

They started to panic a bit. It was supposed to be over by now, but it couldn't happen unless he was entirely in the circle. And it was hungry. Impatient and hungry.

Dean felt like everything inside him was being pulled down. He knew what it felt like to have your insides twisted about with actually nothing touching you. It was something you never really forgot.

He rolled out of the circle as Sam came in, providing a nice distraction. The man who's leg he had, the one who was trying to kick him back in the circle, lost his balance as Dean pulled on him, toppling him into the circle.

"Guess that answers your question" the man said as he grabbed his sister and pulled her far from the circle. Tony's death was fast, and horrific. He writhed in agony for mere seconds, before his shirt grew discolored, in an old familiar pattern.

Sam noticed it, distracted by it long enough to be hit hard and nearly tossed into the circle himself. The two brothers reached each other and stood back to back "Going in alone huh"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time" Dean countered as they made their way toward the door.

"no it didn't" Sam said incredulously. He winced as the cipher took its victim messily and completely "That couldn't have been you" he pointed out as he knocked another one toward the cipher, which this time did nothing.

" Nah, I was in there longer both times, it just hurt like hell. They're pansies is all" Dean countered, noticing that the brother and sister duo had run for the back door "Beauty and brains, whaddaya know."

Sam grabbed Dean by the collar and pulled him toward the front door, and the waiting impala. "Both times?" He asked as he got into the drivers side "what the hell happened in there?" he asked as he drove across to the parking lot and pulled up in front of their room.

"apparently gigantor doesn't like it when you hit on his sister." He said with a shrug and winced cause it hurt. His muscles screamed at him and burned like the morning after an over done work out.

Sam laughed in nervous amusement as he handed over a gun to his brother. "Stay put" he said running in to grab their bags and weapons, then rushing back out to the car. They needed a new hotel. Too close to the site, considering what they were going to have to do.

"But hey she must really like me, asked her brother if I could be the one" He said it as though it were something to do with romance when he knew full well they were talking about cutting him up or something.

"nice. You finally meet a girl and she thinks ripping your heart out is a literal thing."

"ooh don't make me laugh Sammy" He said with smile, even though smiling was the last thing he wanted to do.

"did you notice that guys shirt before he reenacted dinner scene from Alien?" Sam asked.

"Nah I was a bit distracted, why?"

"It was just like Dad… like the bandages."

"Really?" Dean said, the smile dropping off his face. That interested and caught him. "All right. So what could this mean? Apparently something in that circle likes to eat people from the inside out. An dit brands them first. Did that show up on any of the

bodies?"

"from what wa sleft of them, no." Sam said, pulling out the autopsy reports and handing them to Dean, who leafed through them.

"Didn't appear on Dad either." Dean said, worried.

"Maybe...maybe we can stop it here." Sam said. "Cleanse the place, might be enough to stop it."

"Check the next waterway mark to make sure it was enough." Dean said with a nod. "Let's go."

"Now?"

"Got a better idea?"

"Uh..well...no." Sam said, pulling back in front of the bar. "but when we are done, we're going back to Tyler to check on Dad. "

Dean just nodded and they got out of the car. He popped the trunk and dug out the supplies, and the shot gun. It was amazing how intimidating a shot gun could be. Although he suspected the denizens of Harlan's bar and grill would be long gone, he wouldn't put it past them to come back.

"so if this is the doing of some Cult, why would they bring Dad back?" Sam asked. "Are they worshiping The Demon? I don't understand the connection." Much less why it didn't effect Dean as profoundly. Not that he was complaining. Quite the contrary, but it still bothered him that Dean seemed either in tune with the thing or connected to it some how. He sure as hell wasn't going to test the theory on himself to see if it were a familial thing.

"Don't know" Dean said but he sure as hell wanted to find out. He hoped this was the central head quarters of the cult and this would wipe out their power but he knew that he couldn't get that lucky.

He cocked the shotgun and entered the bar looking around, relieved to find it empty. He walked around behind the bar and picked up a bottle of tequila. He took a long drink off of it and set it inside the bag before starting to pull out the supplies.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"Don't start Sam."

"I'm just sayin-"

"well don't" He said as he started to set the scene "And stay the hell away from the edge of that thing." He barked as Sam got to close to the outer rim to please him "it sucks you in if you let it, don't get too close. " It wasn't hungry anymore but that didn't mean it couldn't change its mind when someone like Sam got too close.

The brothers preformed the ritual for the second time in as many days, and the exhaustion was beginning to show in their voices. By the time all was said and done, neither truly had the energy to walk to the car, much less drive to Tyler.

Dean took another long drink of the tequila, then aimed the shot gun at the center of the sigil, firing at the glossy tiles. He wasn't going to leave it in tact for them to come back and power up again.

Sam sighed heavily "So much for resting first. This place is gonna be crawling with cops soon."

Dean hefted the bag over his shoulder "Lets head for Tyler" He said starting out the door, not looking back at the remains of the sigil. He wanted to see his father and make sure it was over.

"We're not going to make it back to Tyler." Sam said as he slid behind the wheel again. Dean was in no condition to drive, not after all this.

"Well, we can't stay there." Dean said, gesturing vaguely to the hotel.

Sam groaned, Dean was right. But so was he. "Okay, we'll drive outside town, find a motel and crash."

Dean half stretched in the front seat, the strain of the rituals and his own unique experience starting to wear on him. Allright, truthfully, it wasn't starting to wear, it had been wearing. It had been wearing for a day or so actually. Sleep...sounded...good. Even if it meant he was leaving his father for one night in the hopefully merciful hands of Mrs Cavanaugh.

But if they pushed through and tried to get back to Tyler, they'd end up driving off the road...or wrapping around a tree...and if they survived, he'd be forced to seriously hurt Sam for hurting his car.

"You all right, man?" Sam asked, giving his brother a worried look. The image of what had happened to the man unfortunate enough to be caught in the circle flashing in front of his eyes.

"I'm fine." Dean said, yawning. "I'm not easy to kill, remember?" He said, tossing his brother a tired grin.

"Yeah, I've noticed." Sam said, allowing himself to chuckle. Sam was 'special', John was the hard boiled hunter-Marine...but Dean? Dean refused to die. (Even if he needed some intervention). And he was never more grateful than right now.

They drove in silence until Sam finally found a roadside motel. Dean was never more grateful to get a cheesy ass motel room, he didn't notice the wall paper. Could have been nice, could have been tacky. He didn't know, he flopped on the first bed and was out like a light before his head even hit the pillow.

"Now who's the caretaker?" Sam said with a tired chuckle as he pulled his brother's boots off and pulled a blanket over his sleeping, lightly snoring form. Shaking his head, he pulled off his own shoes and gratefully climbed into bed.

_Dean napped off and on through the night, lifting his head occasionally to see of Sammy were awake as well. "Dude, go to sleep" he said at one point seeing that his brother lay staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open. _

"_Yeah that's rich coming from you. You okay?" Sam asked._

_Dean rolled his eyes "Yes, mom, I'm fine" he said "just thinking about Dad." He admitted. "Mrs. Cavanaugh is giving me that full on Annie Wilkes vibe you know. I mean… she used to take care of Dad and the now dead Mr. Cavanaugh. Maybe we should look into how dear old Mr. Cavanaugh died."_

"_Heart attack" Sam said, "And just because she is creepy doesn't mean she is psychotic." He turned over to face his brother "Besides, sounds a little paranoid doesn't it?"_

_Dean thought about it "no." he said finally "Its not paranoid. Dad … dad doesn't sleep all the time when he is injured. Hell its harder to get him to sleep then than any other time. "_

"_He's never been brought back from the dead and reconstituted from ash before either" Sam pointed out. "It could be nothing but an old friend worrying to much."_

"_I'm telling you the woman is nuts" Dean said sitting up and looking around the room "you ever notice how all these places look alike. Sometimes I wake up and forget where I am."_

"_that's because you didn't get enough sleep the night before. Go back to sleep, Dean. We'll worry about this in the morning."_

"_no… I'm good to drive. Lets get back to Tyler." Dean had to see his dad. Had to make sure he was alright, everything still attached where it should be. No ciphers burned into his chest. _

_He got out of bed and dressed even as his brother groaned. "Wonder why it didn't mark me at all" he asked, his mind going back to the cipher. "Didn't even mess up my shirt. "_

"_I don't know" sam said, as he dressed. "Maybe you're immune to it. "_

"_That thing hurt like a bitch. If that's immune I'd hate to see.. well.. I guess we did see didn't we" He said sitting down to pull on his boots. "The one… the one for what?" _

"_Sacrifice" Sam said grabbing the bags. _

"_They tried that and it didn't work."_

"_The thing didn't eat your heart, doesn't mean it didn't want to."_

"_Yeah well, I'm in one piece it isn't" Dean said "so I don't think its going to eat me any time soon. Besides it was probably more interested in eating your ass."_

"_Leave my ass out of this. Its yours we're discussing."_

"_Dude, do you have any idea how that sounds?" Dean asked as he loaded their things into the trunk."_

"_you're the one that brought up asses" Sam pointed out getting into the passengers seat. _

_Dean looked over at him "you worry too much, Sam. I'm not the one they come after. You are" _

"_yeah but this isn't about me. Its about you, man. "_

_Dean scoffed as he started the car, and got back on the road. He didn't want to have this conversation with Sam, he wanted to get back to his father. He turned on the radio, flipping through the channels. "ooh this is why I bring my own" he said and popped a tape into the player._

_From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth,  
long murky middle-age and final hours long in the tooth,  
he's the hundred names of terror - creature you love the least.  
Picture his name before you and exorcise the beast._

"_what the hell?" Dean complained, this was not anything he was familiar with, much less something he owned. He tried to pop the tape out but it wouldn't come. _

_He roved up and down through history - spectre with tales to tell.  
In the darkness when the campfire's dead - to each his private hell.  
If you look behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes to feast,  
you can witness now the everchanging nature of the beast._

_Sam shrugged "May as well let it play. At least its not highway to hell. If you have to have a creepy dream song best that it not be highway to hell."_

_Dean looked over at him as though he had sprouted a second head "what ?"_

_If you wear a warmer sporran, you can keep the foe at bay.  
You can pop those pills and visit some psychiatrist who'll say:  
There is nothing I can do for you, everywhere's a danger zone.  
I'd love to help get rid of it, but I've got one of my own. Beastie!_

"_I'm not dreaming. If I were dreaming I would be in the back seat with a blonde, not on the way to see Attila Cavanaugh. "_

"_Its not her you're going to see, its your father."_

_He's the lonely fear of dying, and for some, of living too.  
He's your private nightmare pricking.  
He'd just love to turn the screw.  
So stand as one defiant - yes, and let your voices swell.  
Stare that beastie in the face and really give him hell._

"_he's your father too." Dean said wondering what the hell was wrong with Sam. He was acting really weird. _

"_well, that much is obvious even if I'm not who you think I am." _

"_I think you're a dork" Dean said, still wondering what was wrong with his brother._

"_More of a Jerk but if you say so" Sam said with a shrug "you missed your turn"_

_Dean flipped the car around and turned off on a road that he could have sworn wasn't the one he wanted and yet there it was, the Cavanaugh ranch. He pulled up into the drive and parked near the house, expecting Sarah Cavanaugh to come out and tell them to leave their father alone, that he needed rest. _

_Instead it was John who stepped out the door, "What the hell are you boys doing here?" He demanded, hands on his hips, weight on one leg "I told you, you had work to do. "_

_Dean smiled broadly, this was the father he remembered. "I guess we did it then. Its good to see you up and around. How's the memory?" _

"_Good enough to know you aren't finished with the job I gave you" he said pointing behind Dean. _

"_Dean? Can I go play?" the four year old Sam asked. "I'll be careful I promise"_

_Dean looked at his little brother, not realizing that he shouldn't be a child any longer. "Alright but I want you to stay where I can see you."_

"_nonsense" Mrs Cavanaugh said "he needs his rest" she said and came out to grab Sammy by the arm and take him inside "come on, its time for your nap" _

"_I don't want a nap, " Sammy said defiantly and pulled at the womans arm. _

"_Hey" Dean yelled "Let him go."_

_The woman turned to look at him, and growled, her eyes yellow with the cipher embedded in them. "He's mine now, you couldn't protect him. Now he's mine, just like your father."_

"_the hell they are" Dean said enraged and frightened at the same time. _

_John reached out and grabbed Deans arm "you cant fail this time Son." He told him. "I know you never meant to before but there is no room for failure this time because if you do we're all dead. So you see that cipher you run. You run like hell. You run" he said emphatically. _

"_Dad, she has Sammy, " he said pulling free and running into the house. _

Dean followed Sam into the house, rushing around until he woke up.

What? He'd been dreaming? He shook out his head and rubbed his face. Apparently he'd made some sort of noise because Sam woke up.

"Dean?"

"Go back to sleep. I'm good. Just a dream." Dean said, getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

"What was the dream?" Sam said, sitting up and flicking on the light.

"Nothing." Dean said, doing his business and splashing cold water on his face. He came out and sat back on his bed. Staying still for a moment before lying down, staring at the ceiling.

"Dean?" Sam said.

"Can it, Sammy." Dean said, turning off the light.

"You know, sometimes dreams aren't just dreams..."

"You're the psychic, Sam. But just because my dreams don't mean anything doesn't mean I don't have them. Doesn't mean they don't wake me up in the middle of the night. Just means they don't mean anything. Go back to sleep, Sam."

"I'm just saying..."

Dean sat up and pulled his boots on. "Fine. Let's drive to Tyler. Right now." Dean said. Sam looked at him in confusion, still sleep addled. "I mean it, let's go. Let's get out of this place, we both want to be there, right?"

It was 2 hours later that they were pulling into the Cavanaugh drive way, roughly 3 in the morning and as usual Sarah Cavanaugh stepped out the door.

god doesn't that woman ever sleep? Sam wondered as he headed toward the door "how is he?" He inquired, as he stepped through the threshold.

"Better than you" she said to Dean "Both of you look ragged. He is sleeping but you can peak in on him if you want while I get the bedding down for you.

"thanks" Sam said, not that he would have waited for her permission. This was his father. He looked to Dean, who nodded and followed along after him.

John lay in the bed, paler than they had ever seen him in the light cast by the full moon. But he looked mostly at peace. The occasional twitch, most likely from dreams. Sam settled into his usual chair, only this time without the research materials in his lap

"I don't know that what we are doing is actually doing him any good" Sam said quietly.

"I know. But right now I don't have any better ideas. Sure as hell cant force him to try and remember. Not into torture."

"I know." He frowned "I want to stay with him. "

"Sam… he doesn't think you hate him. Its okay. " Dean remembered why Sam had suddenly got gung ho about the hunt, wanting to do what their father would have wanted. He figured this was more of the same.

Sam sighed "Its not about that. Not even about what he would want. Its about what I want." He wanted more memories of John that didn't involve fighting or looking for a fight. He had found himself getting along with his father, and he knew that would stop when John came back to himself.

"alright. Well, I am gonna go get a shower and crawl into bed… couch… what ever."

Sam nodded. "I'll be down in a bit"

"Dude, you are so gonna fall asleep in that chair. Don't forget to brick dust the window and door before you do" he told him. Cultists weren't effected by salt, but brick stopped anything that wanted to cause you harm.

"I won't. Believe me I won't." Sam said. The last thing he wanted was something coming after John, while he was helpless, with Sam there, because he was careless. He wasn't sure he could take that. He dug into his bag for the brick dust as Dean watched him. Not watching him to make sure he dusted, but watching him. "Dude, I'm good. Go to sleep."

"Yeah, I know." Dean said. He looked at his father and brother one more time before heading out of the room, passing by Mrs Cavanaugh, who gave him the creeps. Sam was right, this woman was creepy.

"Sleep well, Dean." She said as he walked by her. He threw her a quick grin.

"Will do. Not much can keep me from sleep tonight." He said. And it was mostly true. He was beat, he was ragged and he was exhausted. He found the living room, not that far from John's room, kicked off his boots and pulled an afghan over himself as he propped his head up on a throw pillow. The last thing he remembers is Mrs Cavanaugh covering him with a comforter.

Mrs Cavanaugh watched him for a moment, to make sure he was sleeping. The deep, even breathing assured her and she went to the kitchen where she picked up the phone.

"They're back." She said. "No, he's in with the father. It is? Now I never would have figured that. No, he's on the couch. All right." She hung up the phone and made herself a pot of tea as she bustled around the kitchen, straightening things up, arranging her icons a few times, keeping an eye on the clock at all times.

She peeked in on Sam and John, nodded to Sam, the dust not escaping her eyes. She gave him a smile, bade him good night...and locked the door.

Sam noticed the click and frowned. He got up and quietly went to the door to turn the knob and found it locked. He considered banging on the door but that would draw unwanted attention. Instead he went to pick up his cell phone, and dialed Deans number, as he sifted through his gear for something useful.

Mrs Cavanaugh heard the ringing and rushed to Dean's jacket pocket and removed the offending device, turning it off before Dean could do more than stir restlessly in his sleep.

Sam swore softly and looked over at his sleeping father. "sorry Dad." He said as he grabbed the foot of the bed and pulled it out from the wall.

John groaned at the jostling of the bed, then took a deep breath, his eyes opening wide. "Sam? Whats going on?"

Sam lifted a finger to his lips to indicate that he should be quiet and pointed to the door "you were right… she's nuts" he said softly as he pulled the bed the rest of the way out "Sorry" He whispered "We didn't know… and until tonight we had no idea what the cipher was capable of. " he didn't tell him that it had almost killed dean… twice.

The one painted onto the carpet beneath Johns bed was slightly different, probably why his heart hadn't burst from his chest. Just enough different to tone it down he thought, suck his life from him in slow painful increments.

Sam studied it for a moment, careful not to get any part of himself within the circle, He thought about it a moment then took out his knife and cut the carpet, pulling it up from the floor.

"Give me the damned thing" John growled softly, and shook his head at Sam's look "Been laying on top of it for more than a week. Its not going to hurt me any more than it already has . I'll cut it up." He didn't want Sam handling it at all if that was the cause of his illness. "Where's your brother?"

"Out there " He said and could just about kick himself for letting him go off alone "He's… he's probably dusted what ever room he is in." Sam said, hoping that were the case.

"you're brother doesn't take care of himself and you know it." John said, not sure how he knew that was a fact but he did.

"You picked a fine time to start coming round, you know that? We cant afford to start fighting right now." Sam said as he handed the cipher reluctantly over to his father. Who took great pleasure in destroying the thing, in spite of the pain it caused him. Sam thought he could almost see the color come back into the mans face.

"I'm not picking a fight, Sammy. " He said as he swung his feet over the side of the bed "There's clothes in the closet"

Sam got the set of clothes, creepy that it was the ones he had been wearing when they were hit by the truck. Once he helped his father get dressed he went to work, prying the pins off of the hinges.

Sarah Cavanaugh pulled on a pair of gloves and took out a hand towel, folding it over several times, then pouring the contents of a dark brown bottle on to it, careful to keep it away from her own face.

She crossed the room, staring down at Dean. She found herself pleased that it was this one. She disliked this one the most. Too much like his father. Too much arrogance and charm for his own good.

She pressed the cloth down over his face and held it there as he struggled in his sleep, hazel eyes flashing open when it was far too late to fight back. The look of panicked rage faded quickly as he slid into unconsciousness.

She tossed the cloth and the gloves into the waste basket just as the others entered the ranch house "Good timing. Lets get him out of here and we can send Jake in to take care of the other two. We have a long drive ahead of us. "

Dean slipped off before he could even fight. And that pissed him off. He hazily realized he was being lifted up and dragged out of the house before everything went black. Not enough time to warn Sam, to get John out of here. Not enough consciousness to even try. Everything was black, like the deepest sleep.

John heard people outside. "Sam, get that door down." He said. He knew somehow that Dean was in trouble. Probably because he didn't hear Dean's voice. "Sam, get that door down!" He repeated, nearly a shout.

"I'm getting it down!" Sam yelled back, then gave up on the hinges and kicked at it until it gave, splintering in the middle. Sam was out the door first, running to the living room where there was no sign of Dean. "Dean!" He said, circling around.

Dammit. John thought. He was far behind Sam, not nearly in any shape to go running yet.

"Dean went on a trip." Jake said, leaning against a door frame with a revolver in his hand. "I'd worry more about you right now if I were you. We don't need you two now."

"Need us for what?" Sam asked.

Jake just chuckled. "He's just a little something someone needs." He said as he raised the revolver, only to get thrown on his face after a blast.

John was behind him, shotgun in hand, the rock salt still smoking out of the barrell. He flipped Jake over, breathing hard, this was strenuous for him. "Where is my son?" John demanded.

"You won't find him until it's time to bury him. And we all know how much peace you can guarantee him then, don't we?" Jake taunted John, who punched him.

"Sam, get the keys." John said.

Sam grabbed Dean's jacket, and found the keys there. He then fished the duct tape out of his bag and went to tie Jake up. "you're lucky its me and not my brother here right now. I'll just leave you hear to take your lumps for failing. " He said and covered the mans mouth with tape as well.

"Can you make it out to the car?" He asked his father, who looked like he'd like to finish the job himself, but nodded . "I'll meet you out there, gonna grab my stuff" Probably their only chance of finding Dean was in his research. He hoped Ellen and company had continued theirs.

John nearly fell on the stairs but pulled himself upright, cursing himself for his weakness. He was costing them time he knew.

Sam adjusted the bags on to one shoulder and then slipped an arm under Johns shoulders and helped him over to the car.

"should have known there was something wrong." John admonished, as Sam helped him into the car. The words were more instinctive. An old habit. One that he had started out of desperation to keep his boys safe. Not that he remembered that.

"I'm not Dean" Sam said, closing the door and tossing things in to the back seat.

"what's that supposed to mean?" John asked as his younger son got into the car.

"I won't put up with it. You can't say anything to me that I haven't already been saying to my self so don't start. I did what Dean wanted me to do." He started the car and pulled out onto the road, before picking up his cell phone and calling the road house.

He looked over at his Dad "They brought you back from the dead as bait… I don't think they knew which one of us they needed until tonight." He told him, as things were falling into place. "hey Ellen, I need Ash its life and death important…"

"Jo, go wake up Ash" She said to her daughter "Whose life?" she asked having been watching Ash's research and not liking what she was seeing.

"Deans. They just kidnapped him. They're going to sacrifice him but we have no idea where."

"oh god, Sam… I'm sorry"

"no… do not do that. He isn't dead yet and so long as he isn't dead … its not over. Don't tell me you're sorry, just get me Ash on the phone." Dean wasn't going to die, he couldn't die, not now. Not this way. "It was Cavanaugh… she's the one behind it. Went rogue. She isn't possessed. "

Ellen swore, and Sam's eyebrows went up. He had thought he had heard everything.

"Yeah man" Ash said and whistled lowly as Sam gave him all the information he had. "okay…give me a minute here." He didn't say he would call him back because Sam would freak and he knew it.

Sam pulled the car over to the side of the road and waited. There was no point in moving until he had more answers. More idea where to go.

"okay, " Ash said "For that kind of major mojo sacrifice, I can only see two places that have the umph on your water way map that you sent. That's New Orleans, or a little town in Kansas" He said not thinking the Kansas one important. New Orleans was an occult powerhouse.

"Kansas?" Sam asked "What little town in Kansas?" He didn't like that sound of that and looked over at his father who didn't remember the significance of Kansas.

"Lawrence" Ash said and started to talk again but was interrupted by Sam.

"that's our home town. Thanks… " he said and hung up. He flipped the car around and headed for the freeway. It was better than 10 hours to Lawrence, and he wasn't going to waste any of it with back roads. His name was clear, didn't matter if he was seen or pulled over. "We're going home" he told his father.

John looked at Sam. The name rang a bell. A faint bell but a bell. "Home?" He repeated. It had better be on the way to finding Dean. He'd put his boys in danger by his very existence. He looked at the spedometer. "Drive faster, we're burning time we can't afford to burn."

"They'll be taking the back roads to Kansas ." Sam pointed out. "We will have a lead anyway. If I speed too much we'll get pulled over and detained." He was already 20 miles over the speedlimit.

John grumbled as he tried to make himself comfortable in the passenger seat. He had too many bruises and gashes to even get close to partially succeeding. "I was bait." He said, and he hated that thought. He was bait. To get to his boys. "And I know I've told you to watch each other's backs."

"I know." Sam grumbled back. He was trying, he really was but he was just as on edge as John was right then. "But we can't spend every second on top of each other. Can't do our job that way, which we have actually managed to accomplish without you riding herd on us. Give us a little credit." It wasn't the first time one of them had been taken, wasn't the first time some one had planned to kill one of them… "We'll find him…we'll get to him in time." Not that he knew how. Lawrence wasn't huge but it wasn't like they would put up a neon sign either.

John bit off a comment as he stared straight ahead at the road. "Fine. What lead will be have?" He asked through a clenched jaw. Yeah, he could see him and Sam butting heads a lot now.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Sam said and swallowed hard. It was his biggest fear that Jake had been right. That they wouldn't find him in time. But he had to hope, not to would be to curl up and die himself. "We're going to see a friend of the family named Missouri who lives in Lawrence . She's a psychic. I don't know if she can help us or not but it's a start. Beyond that I can't predict what they are going to do to screw up. If possible Dean will leave us clues. We've pulled each other through worse."

John worked his jaw, this car wasn't going fast enough. A super sonic jet wouldn't be fast enough. "I'm going to need supplies." He said. "I'll need to get stronger." He couldn't be winded going up stairs when his son's life was at stake.

"We'll get them when I refuel. Not sure what's going to help you get stronger other than time, Dad." Sam said honestly worried about his dad. "You can stay with Missouri while I go after him." He wasn't going to risk his father not just because he loved him but because Dean couldn't handle his father dying again trying to save him. It would destroy his brother.

"The hell I will." John growled. If it weren't for him and his resurrection, Dean wouldn't be in this situation. No way was he going to hide out in someone's living room. "I'll think of something. It's in my brain somewhere." He had some time to think of it, he supposed. He just had to think fast. But he wasn't staying behind.

"You can't keep up." Sam countered. "And we can't handle losing you again." Dean would kill him if he let his father get hurt. "If you can keep up you can go." He didn't even have all his memories back, although apparently he had his temperament back. Sam was starting to miss the guy in the bed. Although he would rather have his father at his side going in … if …no- no if, when they found Dean.

"I may not have my memory, but I do know that I am your father. You are my son. Dean is my son. And I not going to sit in some woman's living room when he could be hurt. That's the end of the discussion." John shot back.

"Right, so I am supposed to fight my way in, protecting you if you are still recovering, then get to Dean who may be injured and need my assistance, and get both of you out in that condition and cover our asses in the process? Did you bump your head?" He asked. "And if you remembered it clearly, the being my father trump, hasn't worked since I left for college and you told me not to bother coming back. "

"You are going to need back up whether you like it or not." John said, turning in his seat a bit to look at his son. He didn't remember what Sam was talking about, so he wasn't going to get into an argument about it.

"I can't lose both of you and Dean won't be able to handle it if you die saving him again." Sam admitted. "So we have to get you better." He said and turned off at the nearest exit. He had already shaved an hour off of the trip, and they were ahead of the bad guys the moment they knew the destination. "We'll get some supplies up here and see what we can do."

There was so much Sam was saying that John didn't understand,because he didn't have his memory. And he hated it. He hated not remembering, not knowing. And hoped it wouldn't cost them. "Your brother is a survivor. He's holding his own wherever he is." That much John knew, even if he didn't know how he knew.

"I know… he is… he doesn't give up. You two have that in common." He said, not realizing he was much the same. "The cipher…it ripped people's hearts out in like seconds of them being in it…it hurt him… made him barely able to move but it didn't kill him. I think that is why they took him…" Sam explained as he pulled into a riteaid parkinglot.

John looked at Sam in shock. "Your brother was in that circle?" He asked, horrified. "How...run me through this...how did Dean get inside that circle? Where were you? And how did he get out?"

Sam gave him the run down of the situation, from Dean leaving the hotel room, insisting that he go to the bar alone while Sam gathered research, to the point that Sam got there and the two of them fought their way out. "I think they were planning on keeping which ever one of us survived but they couldn't manage to get us into it when we were together." Dean had a way of turning into a tiger when Sam was around. Particularly if there were genuine danger to Sam. "What all do you think you need out of the store? You should stay in the car… too many questions about what happened to you."

"I can't stay dead forever, Sammy." John said tiredly. Dean was in trouble now because he insisted on being the one to face the danger, and Sam let him be that guy.

"I don't want you to stay dead." Sam said looking at him with wide dark eyes. "I want you back, with all the yelling and fighting and… baggage… that comes with it. Don't ever think otherwise. I just meant the… pounding you took is pretty obvious. They don't know you're dead, we were in the hospital under alias's when you … Died. You're officially listed as whereabouts unknown."

"Sam. It's a pharamacy." John said, easing himself out of the Impala. "Where do people go when they're too stubborn to go to the hospital when they're hurt? Rite Aid to get supplies to patch themselves up. I ain't nothing they've never seen before. Let's go. You say we're ahead of them so far, we don't want to waste time and fall behind. Sam, let's go. Now."

Sam got out of the car, and hurried to his father's side. "Damn it, the two of you are too stubborn for your own good." He grumbled. "We thought you were indestructible when we were kids. I don't think we ever got over that until… well…you know." He said as he helped his father toward the store. His brother wanted to be just like his father. And that scared him for both of them, because Sam knew that neither of them was indestructible.

"Obviously not even death can destroy me." John said as they browsed the aisles, John pointing to what he needed. "Maybe I am indestructible. Walking wounded and mortally wounded...big stream of difference between the two. And we need to find Dean before he crosses that line, because if he's as stubborn as you think, guaranteed he's not being well behaved."

"The only person that has ever been able to control Dean, has been you." He stated. "If he is able, he is raising hell. It's a given." He said as he tossed in a few things on his own that he thought would be a good idea and headed to the check out stand. When the time came he swiped the card, keeping it covered so that his father didn't ask any questions at the wrong time. For instance why his last name was Hoffman, signed the paper accordingly and started to help his father out the door. "With any luck he is slowing them down and giving us time."

John looked at Sam with surprise at the statement. That the only one that could control Dean, ever, was him. But was silent until they got into the car, where he took off his jacket, stripped off his shirt, and started to rebandage his wounds, with dressings that Mrs Cavanaugh did NOT touch.

"Sam...I don't know what kind of father I was..." He said as he taped himself up. "Sounds like I did a bang up job though. But you two turned out all right."

Sam took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to tell him that Dean was more of a father to him than he had ever been. "How we lived… it wasn't your fault. It's just how things were after Mom died. I don't think I ever knew what normal was till I went to college. Dean wouldn't know what to do with normal but he likes it like that. He loves the hunt. " Sam said as he started the car. They had all patched themselves up in a moving vehicle, it wasn't that hard. "I'll look at the stitches and stuff when we get to Missouri 's place make sure they aren't … sabotaged or what ever it was she was doing to you."

John chuckled, without humor. "Like I said, real bang up job." He said, shaking his head. He was getting the jist of it now. As much as he hated to get the jist of it. "So why aren't you at college? You should be at college."

"My girlfriend was murdered… by the same demon that …" he paused. "Wow… don't know what to say, not sure if it's going to cause you another seizure." He shook his head. "I have a bachelor of arts degree from Stanford, and eventually I'm going back for law. " Could he do that now? Or was it just a pipe dream? Could he really go back to school and pretend the world was normal? He had done it at 18 but it was easy to lie to himself at 18.

"The same demon that killed your mother." John said. He didn't remember it, but he knew the answer. Hec ouldn't feel the pain from it, and he guessed he was lucky for now, but he knew the answer. "And I led you boys on a hunt for it, didn't I? Do you hate me?"

"No… I don't hate you. I never hated you. I was just… angry… and you were… angry… " He said as he took an off ramp and went in search of the next freeway. "I just wanted to have a normal life. That's all…and I got that for four years. But it's not possible for me to have normal. No matter how much I want it. I guess you realized that before I did."

"Great. Good to know before I got my memory back and before you two got used to me being back that I found all this out. Before I fuck you two up even more." He loved them, nearly obsessively. And him being back...just complicated things for them. They were better off with him dead.

"Dad… don't." He said. "I mean it. I was just a baby when mom died, and that Demon was there for me. " He told him, hoping it wasn't too much. "You did what you had to do to protect us. Okay so you obsessed on destroying the demon… I get that. Especially after Jess died I get that. We weren't a perfect family, so what? And if you think doing something stupid is going to make things easier on us, you're wrong."

"Am I?" John said, perhaps a little more hotly than he wanted to. "Why is Dean where he is? Why are you guarding your shoulder? Why is my son about to walk into what may be a trap to save my other son? Come on, Sam, tell me why. Convince me that this is easier on you. Cause I sure as hell don't think it is."

"You think this is new for us?" He asked. "We have spent our entire lives doing this. We are in danger on a regular basis, and it's not your fault any more than it's mine. It's the damned Demon. So you tell me, Dad, why should we go through this alone if we don't have to?"

"Dammit Sammy!" John said, slamming his hand on the dashboard. "You're talking circles around me right now and I don't appreciate it. Not without my memory. "This is my fault, I was bait and you two, because it was me, fell right into it. That makes it my fault. My problem."

"You can feel all the guilt you want. Dying all over again isn't going to fix anything. You'd just be letting that bastard win… not to mention the effect it would have on us. Especially Dean… I thought I was losing him too for a while there after you died."

John glowered at the windshield, and his glower wasn't anything to smile about. "I'll take care of this." He said, hoping he'd at least have subconscious memory to go on. Else he was screwed. But he was sick of the implication that his boys, his sons, were flapping in the breeze because of him, or for him, or whatever.

"This is why I left." Sam said with a frustrated growl. "You'll take care of it. Always you would take care of it. Or you and Dean would take care of it. Never seemed to get the We down. Well WE are going to take care of this. Because **I** let him down today and I need your help. The bad guys are out to get us. It's a fact of life. Okay so they used you as bait, at least something good came out of it this time." He couldn't let himself think that it was a trade off. That he would get his father back and lose his brother. He wouldn't let that happen. Unfortunately John had already proven that he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for Dean. He wouldn't be as focused on getting himself out as well as he should be.

"No." John said. "There's a good chance we might lose Dean tonight. I am not going to lose you too." He said firmly. "That's how it's going to go."

'We are not losing Dean tonight. It's not happening. No one in this family is dying tonight." He said emphatically. "Dean isn't going to let them kill him before we get there."

"Sam...it's okay if it's me." John said. "Because sometimes what's dead should stay dead. Actually most of the time, if not all of the time."

"No… it's not okay. Get it out of your head that its okay." He said starting to get the feeling that his Dad was going to be saying good bye soon. "I won't let it happen. It wasn't your time to go when you went. You gave yourself up to the demon so that he would fix it so that Dean wouldn't die. It wasn't your time."

"So, you're saying I'm back because it wasn't my time? It doesn't work like that." John retorted. "I'm back to trap you two. I'm back because..." He said and he paused. "I'm back because it's the easiest way to get to the two of you. The demon knows that. Everyone knows that, including you!"

"I don't care why!" Sam yelled. "You're back, We're going to save Dean and we'll be …together. " He couldn't take this. Not now, not after finding him again. "You can't die for him again. It will kill him if you do. What I want may not seem important but don't you leave Dean again."

"So what's the plan, Sammy?" John yelled back. "Get Dean out, then you two can look after your old man who might as well have a target etched on his forehead, who also has swiss cheese where his memory should be, all the while avoiding the targets on your own backs? Maybe we'll go to Disneyland too. Bet I never took you there." But even the word Disneyland sent shudders up his spine. He wasn't a Disneyland kind of guy. Little things were coming back in rushes. Like demons. How to hunt. How to kill them. And he was convinced Disneyland was a holding cell for demons.

"Thank god." Sam said in response to the Disney land crack. "And we're family so yeah, that's what we do, until you get it all back or we teach you what you taught us. You don't get to take the easy way out. I swear if you do I will summon you back just so that I can kick your ass."

"Easy way out?" John said. If death hurt half as much as his body did right now, that wasn't the easy way out. "I am a walking, talking liability!" He was talking himself into it. Into another sacrifice if it came down to it. He didn't want to, he wanted to fix what he had messed up, but life never worked like that.

"You are our father." Sam countered. "And we need you. Dean needs you alive when we get him out of there. So cut the bull shit. Since when do you let your emotions rule you?" Sam was flying down the road, but saw the traffic up ahead slowing to a crawl and took the next exit. He would take the back roads during rush hour. The free way would be hell for the next two hours, better to avoid it.

"Since I'm getting things held against me that I don't even remember!" John shot back. "I'm tired, I'm hurting, I've got one son about to be used as an ultimate sacrifice. And since I have no real memories dating back farther than three weeks ago, I'm a little pissy right now. Where are the weapons? We're going to need serious fire power."

"It's not pissy that worries me." Sam said as he reached back with one long arm to get the medicine bag. "Weapons are in the trunk." He said. "Take two of the cephelexin, and half of a lortab. Should cut the pain a little. We have a way to go you can rest if you want."

"I'm fine." John said, but did take the antibiotic and the lortab. He looked at Sam. "You don't look a lot like me. A little, here and there, especially when you're yelling, but not a lot. You look like your mom, don't you?" A woman he still couldn't remember.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I've seen pictures of her. I guess I sort of look like a mix of you two …not really a lot like either. When I was a kid though I looked a lot like her. Dean looks like you though when you were younger. "

That John could see. Pretty strongly. Though from Dean's coloring he guessed his deceased wife had been blonde. He wished he could remember her. To remember what he was supposed to have been fighting for all those years. Vengeance loses its drive when you can't remember what you're avenging.

"Yeah, well, your brother has to learn to watch his own back." John said.

"Hey." Sam said sharply. " I might agree with you, but its not because he's careless or anything. It's cause he has spent his entire life watching over me, and patching you up when you were too far gone to patch yourself up." Sam sighed. "I know this is hard for you. I get that, and I don't want to make it worse. I love you. But you've got this habit of Jumping Dean when something happens. Just… don't do it this time. " He figured it would break Dean's heart if he did. Or it could make him smile and know their father really was in there.

"All right. So apparently I have a habit of jumping Dean, and even though this is a situation where I would clearly jump Dean, I'm not supposed to." John said, with a hint of a smile. "You do want me dead. Because he'll figure I'm possessed and take me out himself."

Sam actually laughed at that. "Yeah well usually you jump Dean because I was the one in trouble. I think you were just mad cause you couldn't be there yourself but I resented the hell out of it… not you being gone… well that wasn't fun but it was the ragging on him afterwards, you know. Dean just swallows it up and says, Yes Sir. I would get so mad at him for that." Sam shook his head. "Although you're right… you should jump him. Last time you were understanding of a screw up you were possessed. " He teased back.

"Well, thank you for your permission." John said with a chuckle. "And I will jump on him. He knew better than to not dust the area. That was a careless mistake. Beats jumping on him for anything else I could come up with. And it's better to yell at him than worry over him." He already knew Dean wouldn't be in the best shape.

"Hovering is my job. He won't take it from anyone else and barely takes it from me." Sam said with a grin. He was doing his best not to think about what could be happening to him as they drove. So he started to fill John in on their lives. He knew it might be pushing but he suspected the seizures were done now that he was away from the cipher. It was easier to speak of the past than worry about the present. Or at least that was what he told himself.

They pulled over long enough to refuel and grab food they could eat on the road. Sam needed caffeine anyway. They were making good time. Every so often Sam would find himself having to back off of the gas as their speed went dangerously high. They couldn't afford to waste time being pulled over or the police searching the car. Usually that was why they took the back roads but this time he couldn't afford to be behind the bad guys on the road. Had to get there as quickly as possible to even stand a chance of finding his brother.

"Now would be a good time to be able to control my visions but I don't seem to be able to do it."

John was thoughtful. "Yeah, maybe it will come in time." He said, distracted. "Are you sure your brother didn't make a deal at the crossroads? Are you absolutely sure?"

Sam looked over at his father, with wide eyes. The thought hadn't even occurred to him then he relaxed. "I'm sure." He said after he thought about it a moment. "If he had we would have been searching for you. He might not have told me what he was looking for but it would have been obvious he was looking and he was afraid to believe it was you. If he had sold his soul he would have believed easier."

"I'm not sure he believes it now." John said, relaxing himself. At least that hadn't been done. That was good. One less thing to worry about. "I'm not sure I believe it. You burned and salted my remains, right? I shouldn't be here."

"You sacrificed yourself to a Fallen Angel. We're talking about beings that defied God and thought they could win. Who knows what they are capable of doing? Burning and salting may not have been enough in a situation like that. " It might not even have been John that they cremated, could have been an illusion in order to keep the body intact if this had been his plan.

"I crawled out of a well. Thrashed." John said. "something happened to me, and when this is over I'm going to find out what."

Sam visibly relaxed then. Plans for after meant not so much planning of dying. "We'd like the answers to that too." He said and followed the off ramp. " Almost there. We'll start looking for leads when we get to Missouri 's place." Sam was tired. He had had maybe 3 hours of sleep before Dean's nightmare woke him. He was currently operating on will power alone.

"You're going to take a rest while I talk to Missouri ." John said firmly. "I mean it, you look like hell, and you can barely drive straight. You're laying down while I talk to Missouri . Period."

"After I make a few phone calls." He said turning onto the private streets. He couldn't help but drive by the old house. It wasn't far from Missouri 's place and he wanted to see if it would spark anything in his father.

"They better be short phone calls, because you need rest and you don't have a lot of time to get it." John said sternly as he passed the house, closing his eyes. It was right there, the memory, like something just out of reach, he could almost touch it, but couldn't reach it.

"I need to get Ash working on things while I sleep." He told his father. "That… that was our home" He said about the house. "Where it all started for us… " Once it was over he would take them by his mom's grave stone. He made two more turns before pulling into Missouri 's drive way.

The heavy set black woman came out the door with both hands on her hips. "Well it took you boys long enough. Been sitting here worried all night long." She spouted before Sam could even get the door of the impala open. He smiled faintly. "That's Missouri . Be careful… she can read minds sometimes."

"Thanks for the warning." John said as he eased out of the car. "Well, we've had some difficulties."

"I know that." Missouri said. "Now get your butts in here. I've got coffee ready and you boys can tell me all about it." She already knew something had happened to Dean, and that John was back. No need to mention it.

Sam grabbed the bag with clothes and his lap top then went around to his father's side of the car to help him if he needed it. "Coffee sounds good." Sam said, even if he had been drinking red bull all the way from Texas . Coffee was strangely relaxing and he needed to relax if he were going to rest enough to go after his brother.

Once inside he made sure John was comfortable, fussing over him as he would Dean, before sitting down himself, rubbing at his eyes as he called the road house to set Ash in motion while he tried to recover at least a little of his strength. He hung up as Missouri handed him a cup of coffee just as he liked it. "Thanks… I should have called. Sorry." He told her.

"Alright then, don't let it happen again." Missouri said, placated by the apology. The boy should have called her the minute John was found.

"Can't blame him. No one was sure I was me, even me, until recently." John said, waving Sam off with varying degrees of success. He'd had enough of being hovered over by Mrs Cavanaugh after all. That woman constantly hovered over him. Now he knew for sure why. "And I don't remember you at all, no offense, yet. Things are coming back slowly. Though my mind feels like a strainer still, things still slip through."

"Well you are definitely, John Winchester. I would know you anywhere." She said and she wasn't meaning visually. "Don't you get smart with me boy," she said to Sam who promptly blushed deeply, even though he said nothing aloud. "You take that coffee with you and head on to bed. You know where it is. I can handle your father."

"Yes ma'am." He said and got up, he gave his father a concerned look. "You'll wake me up if they call back with information?" He asked.

"Just get your behind into bed. No one is leaving you behind. " She said giving John a look with that one.

Sam made his way to bed. He was asleep half to the bedroom, traveling on auto pilot into the bed.

"Now, John… you wanna explain to me this wild notion you have been batting around in that head of yours? You know making major decisions when your head is full of swiss cheese isn't a good idea. Much less bone headed, selfish decisions based on emotions instead of logic."

"It's not boneheaded, and it's not selfish." John said shaking his head as he looked into his coffee, as it if were filled with tea leaves instead. "You'll look out for Sam and Dean when I send him back here?"

"How can you say that it's not selfish? Those boys love you. You broke Dean's heart when he found out what you had done to save him. You can't do that to them again. There is no call for it, John. That's why it's selfish."

"I'll do what I have to do to get my boy out of there. I can't remember much about him, at least not the past, but I know I love him and I know he's important to me." John said. "Whatever it takes. And keep Sam clear from it all too."

"John… " she said and sighed. "You need to listen to me. " She said it calmly. Because ranting at a Winchester was the surest way to get them to close down on you. "There are things you don't remember. Things even your boys don't know." She sat down with him and explained things in no uncertain terms. "So you see, John, this isn't your fault, and there is no way to keep these boys safe. You did all that you could, more than most would be capable of, or willing to do. All that you can do now is help them through what ever comes. You can't do that if you're gone."

John ran a hand over his face and sighed after Missouri told him everything he'd forgotten. Good thing, too, because knowing his luck, it would come back at a very bad time. At least he was prepared now. "Thank you." He said, for saying all the things he knew his boys either didn't know, or were hedging on. "Fine, we'll come through this. I'll yell at them a bit, be like old times."

"Good. Now go get some rest while you can. I can answer his phone. Neither one of you can afford to fall asleep on the job this time. " She said pointedly. "There really is a future John. For all of you. All you have to do is get through the next few days."

"Yes, ma'am." He said and stood up. "You wouldn't happen to have some NyQuil or something? To make sure I don't wake up for a bit?" If things were coming back when he was awake, he was sure his sleep would be interrupted. And now was not the time for restless sleep. Not when it was time for him to be on top of a game he wasn't sure he had.

Missouri gave him something to help him sleep and made sure that they were both sleeping soundly before settling into her most comfortable chair to let herself relax and meditate on receiving images she wasn't sure she wanted to receive. But she had to try, and she hoped that it wasn't too late. She wasn't prepared for what she saw…

They had used a horse trailer to transport him. Mrs Cavanaugh and Jake up front, Gigantor and his sister in the trailer with Dean. It wasn't one of the old fashioned ones with open holes and spaces, this was a fancy newfangled job, with windows at the front, air conditioning and all the amenities for a horses comfort. Unfortunately Dean wasn't a horse, therefore wasn't comfortable. Not that they cared. They sat at the front of the trailer playing cards, sipping on bottled water.

Dean woke up with a hangover. He'd never had a hangover like this, and wanted to go to sleep. Back to sleep when his head didn't hurt so much and his throat didn't feel like it was on fire. Why his throat on fire? He'd never vomited in his sleep before...awake and wishing he were dead, sure.

But the motel room didn't smell like vomit. It didn't smell like a motel room actually...and he'd stayed in some pretty bad ones in his life.

That alone set off alarms in his head. And his head couldn't take any more alarms! He woke up with a start, wide awake at the unfamiliar surroundings. It was onet hing to wake up and forget which motel you were at. Quite another to wake up in the back of a horse trailer, knowing full well you fell asleep on a couch.

Gigantor tossed a card down in front of him. "Fifteen for two." He said, marking his points on the small wooden peg board. "Looks like sleeping beauty is up."

His sister glanced over at him. "Yeah, so he is." She said and tossed down her own card. "20, and a pair for two." She said, marking her points. "I'm skunking you, ya know."

"No you're not."

"The hell I'm not. You know that means you get to go check on him. Aren't you glad I cleaned him up earlier." She said giving her brother a look that said she really hadn't wanted to deal with that.

"Oh, my two favorite people." Dean said slurrily, keeping his eyes half closed. "Did I die and go to heaven? Where are the angels in diapers with harps? Complete let down. Thought there would at least be a team of Hooters waitresses ready to take my order..."

Dean assessed the situation, forcing his mind clear. Rough roads. Check. Thinking he was half drugged, double check. He waited until Gigantor slammed his cards down and stalked over to Dean, Dean snaked his leg out and tripped him, wrapping his legs around his neck and squeezing. "Where are we going?" He demanded as he worked on his bonds at his hands. This was going to take a while.

"You're going to hell." He growled. "Literally."

"Let him go." His sister said as she rose to her feet. She couldn't kill him but she could hurt him, and she would if he didn't let go of her brother. "You really don't want to piss me off right now, Dean. I can make what's left of your life a living hell. Trust me.. you want to put off hell till you actually get there."

"Come one step closer and I'll break his neck. And by threatening me, after kidnapping me, after throwing me into some demented circle, I no longer have to obey that rule about not hitting a woman. Don't push me." Dean snarled, putting more pressure on the brother's neck for emphasis. "Or...go ahead and push me. Could be fun. Can they hear you scream up there?"

"I need you alive but not necessarily in one piece." She said "There's lots of pieces I can put you in if you don't let him go." She said. "Or I could just kill you now and bring you back from the dead like we did your father. It won't matter if your brain is scrambled for whats coming."

"You sure about that? You really want to take a chance? I mean, I was picked for your little ritual with my brains intact and unscrambled." He taunted as the brother clawed at his legs. He knew how picky rituals could be. How everything had to be done exactly right, or they wouldn't turn out right at all. "Obviously you went through a lot of trouble for me, I'm flattered. But don't think I'm going to make it easy on you. You're not that cute in direct light."

"Do you really think you're the only one we have?" She asked him, staring at him with cold eyes as she took a seat again, picking up the cell phone. "Eye for an eye and all that. Brother for brother… I don't need HIM alive. Then again we'll probably just kill them both anyway, what difference does a few more hours of breath make?"

"Exactly, what does a few hours more of breath make?" Dean said as he released Gigantor and kicked him free. Threatening Sam, dammit, easiest way to get to him. He shoved himself hard against the trailer wall. Gigantor soon realized that when he tried to get retaliation, Dean kicked back. Hard. And made it seem like the chloroform had dulled any sensation of pain he might have had, which cut down on the fun.

"Come on." She said moving her brother away from Dean. "It's not worth it. You'll get to watch him scream later." She promised her brother. "It's your play." She motioned for him to sit down and pick up his cards again.

Gigantor laughed, and rubbed at his throat when he did. It hurt still. He had nearly passed out from lack of oxygen and he suspected blood to his brain. "Yeah… he'll scream alright… then I'll go back to the ranch and –"

"Shut the fuck up." His sister growled. She knew enough to know that trump card only worked so far. Too much threat and Dean would figure fighting was what he needed to do instead of going off like a lamb to the slaughter. She was the oldest.. she knew.

Dean glared at them as the trailer bounced down the road. Oh he was not in a good mood. And Dean in a piss poor, mad as hell, scared for his family mood was good for absolutely no one. If they thought he was going out gently and well behaved, well, they were very bad at reading people. Or just plain stupid. Or careless. Or all three. Hopefully it would work out for him.

The trailer bounced down the road for another hour before pulling into a gas station to refuel. "Not one word out of you." She warned Dean and showed him the cell phone. "We won't be here long." She looked at her brother. "Go on in and get us something to drink. It's a long ride still."

Gigantor nodded and went out the side door, closing it behind him.

"Too bad you came into the bar on the wrong night." She said. "Could have stood to keep you around for a couple of weeks." She looked him over almost hungrily.

Dean glared back at her. "I'm over you. Now you have a better chance of cleaning up my vomit than coming anywhere near anything I might consider relative to that." He said with disgust. "Sorry, human sacrifices, not really that big a turn on."

"No? too bad for you." She said as she came closer. "I always found that men could get turned on by the damnedest things. Some find fear to be an incredible aphrodisiac. " She said as she knelt down beside him. "No kicking." She said firmly.

"I don't get turned on by fear." Dean said, and he'd been in fearful situations enough in his life that he would know. He watched her kneel down beside him. "Fine, no kicking." He said and brought his head back, slamming it into her forehead. "Bitch, that's for fucking up a good buzz last night."

Carly cried out in pain as his head smashed into hers. Winchesters were known for their hard heads, she had thought it was metaphor for their temperament. Now she knew otherwise. She lashed out at him back handing him full force. "That's not all that's going to be fucked up."

"Wow, that's nearly a turn on." Dean quipped. "How long is Gigantor going to be in the store?" He smirked. He knew his odds right then. Two people, at least one, presumably in the front. Carly here in the back and her brother who knew where. His hands were bound, he had no weapons, and he didn't know where his brother and father were. He had some hours to tick away. By the time sunrise rolled around, Sam would know he was gone and they'd be on the move. At the latest. He just had to hold on until then.

Carly pushed him back against the floor and straddled his waist. Her hand held firmly at his throat, any attempt to push up would hurt him as much as her. "Maybe I should just focus on hurting you instead, since you don't want to get in one last romp before you die."

"I love your pillow talk." Dean said, glare on full force. "Why don't you just go back to your corner? You were the one who came near me. Your fault you've got a nice bruise forming. Nice work, if I may say so myself."

She tightened her grip on his throat. "You never learned to play well with others did you?" She asked. She didn't know if she wanted to hurt him or screw him at this point, probably would have settled for a bit of both if time and privacy would have allowed for it.

Dean managed to chuckle. "I play very, very well with others. As long as those others aren't trying to feed me to an occult circle or drag me off in the middle of the night for some fucked up ritual. Oh wait, that's you. Guess I won't be playing well with you then." He glanced at the window. Sun wasn't up yet. He couldn't make a break for it until the sun was up.

The door opened and Gigantor came back into the trailer. "Oh god, will you get off him? Maybe they'll let you play with what's left later. But that's gonna make me puke if you don't knock it off." He said and closed and locked the door.

Dean chuckled. "You people are sick. Besides, I've seen the bodies," at least photographs of them, "and there's not enough left to play with."

Carly got off of him slowly. "Oh but that was the quick and easy method. You don't seem to die that way… which is why you're needed. There's a whole series of rituals. Not that you're gonna enjoy any of them but well… there is a price to pay for being to stubborn to die."

"Oh lucky me." Dean said with a roll of his eyes. "You know, you could at least try to make it sound fun. Might go out with a smile, instead of a glare. I'm a whole lot cuter when I smile you know."

"Now where's the fun in that? I don't recall ever saying I was interested in **your** pleasure." Carly said with a laugh. "You had a chance at that as I recall."

"Hey, I was all for it until your brother decided to put me in a circle." Dean pointed out. "so go beat him up for ruining your night."

The pair fell back into playing cribbage, and ignoring Dean, no matter what he had to say. The hours passed unbearably slowly but finally the first light of dawn could be seen though the small window. It wasn't long after that they pulled into a truck stop.

"You keep still and keep your mouth shut. " Carly warned Dean. "No matter how bad you think things are right now, it could get much worse. Especially for anyone thinking they are going to rescue you."

"My shoulders are numb, and I can't even feel my fingers. I had to look to make sure I was still tied up. What exactly do you think I'm going to try, you stupid bitch?" Dean said. "And get me a soda. And a straw. A happy sacrifice is a better sacrifice, remember?" He taunted her.

Carly left the trailer and headed into the truck stop. She wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave Dean alone with her brother, but figured that the worst that could happen was a lot of bruising. Not like he could open any doors in his current condition.

Gigantor smirked at Dean. "Look at that, unchaperoned." He sneered. Dean just smirked.

"Lucky me." He said as he slipped his thumb out of the ropes binding his hands. Had taken hours to get even that far, but that was far enough. With his thumb out, one twist of the wrists and his hands were free. He didn't hear the lock click, Carly was indeed not the brightest bulb in the socket. Or she just had an overwhelming confidence in her brother. Either way, sucked for her.

Gigantor began to pace, looking out the small window, making sure there was no one around. He still owed Dean payback for humiliating him in front of his sister. Not to mention the fact that his neck still hurt. Once he was sure he was clear he made his way back over to Dean and kicked him in the ribs, never expecting the man to be able to fight back.

Dean took the kick and then grabbed his ankle with his now free hands and threw him on his back. "All right." He said, breathing hard as he tied Gigantor with the rope. "My turn now." And kicked him in the ribs. He really wanted to have some 'fun', but he had to get out of here as he grabbed the gun, made sure it was loaded, and ran as fast as he could out of the trailer and across the parking lot.

Dean entered the trees and kept running. He knew he couldn't stop. No matter how winded he was, no matter how much he hurt. He stumbled through the trees, pausing only occasionally for breath, knowing that they were on his heels and that he wouldn't be able to take them all on. Finally he realized that he wasn't going to be able to run any further and instead looked for a place to hide. He nestled in under the low growing shrubs. He had only intended to rest for a few minutes then try and get further away, but was sucked into unconciousness.

Mrs Cavanaugh was less than pleased to find him gone. She sent Jake and Gigantor out after him, admonishing them that if they couldn't find him… they should save her the trouble of killing them later.

They followed the signs, broken branches, trampled grass, partial foot prints, and finally found him laying beneath the bush and pulled him out by the ankle. It didn't matter that he was unconscious, Gigantor planted his boot into his ribs repeatedly, his hip, and was pulled off just before he could bring his foot down on his knee.

"I am not carrying him everywhere. Leave the knee in one piece. Bad enough we have to carry him back as he is."

They drug him back to the horse trailer, and carted him inside. His hands were bound in front, and then pulled over his head to attach to a ring in the wall.

"Alright, let's get moving, we've lost enough time already."

It was hours later when he woke up and groaned. Kept his eyes squeezed shut to banish tears of frustration, and pain. He was back in the horse trailer and they were on the move again. He didn't get away, all he'd gotten was what he was sure were some bruised ribs (probably busted with his luck), and his leg was throbbing. His head...hazy, foggy and he couldn't clear it. That ringing in his ears wouldn't go away either.

This was not good.

He didn't get away.

And there was no way Sam and Dad would find him now.

"Well look who's back amongst the living. Just in time too." Carly said as she looked over at Dean. "Hope you enjoyed your little run. "

The trailer pulled off the old highway and onto a city street. Slowing down as they merged with traffic, eventually turning off onto a country road again. It was roughly 5 minutes later that they came to a stop.

"It was bracing. Good exercise." Dean quipped. They were smart this time, his thumbs weren't in a position the way he was tied to try and slip through the ropes again. He looked up when the trailer stopped. "Are we there yet, Daddy, are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

Gigantor backhanded him, which did nothing for the ringing in his ears. "Yes, dear, we are." He said. And Dean did not like him playing along.

The end of the horse trailer opened and Jake entered. The two men escorted Dean out of the trailer, and toward the back of the farm house. "We need to get him ready for the first ritual. No time to rest, thanks to his little hiking trip." Jake said, "Get him down into the cellar. " He told Gigantor, figuring he could handle the man in his current condition.

"Why does everytime I have to be sacrificed, I have to start out in the cellar?" Dean asked. "Do you guys have a secret human sacrifice hand book or something? Or at least an instructional pamphlet? I mean, seriously, the basement?"

"Shut up." Gigantor said, drabbing him along by his bound hands, standing to keep out of reach of any legs that might come flying toward him. Though this time, if they did, he would decimate that knee.

Once down in the cellar they tied the rope binding his hands to the center beam across the ceiling. Carly followed them down and began to cut away his clothing, tossing them to the side. "Should have let me do this earlier. Would have been a lot more pleasant."

"Doubt it." Dean said. "You weren't any less psycho on the road." He couldn't help but gasp as Gigantor turned a water hose on him, spraying him down with cold water as Carly began to scrub him down, practically taking a layer of skin as she did so.

Once he was nice and shiny clean, even a little pink from the scrubbing, he was shoved down on a table as they attacked him again. Not with fists, or kicks, or even a crowbar, but paint brushes, dipped in India ink as they traced patterns and symbols over his flesh before pulling his boxers on.

Well, it wasn't required for the boxers to be on, and Carly did object, but it was on the insistence of the men in the group, as they dragged him back out of the basement into a large circle burned into the backyard and tied him to a low stone table carved with similiar markings that were painted on his body.

"And let's begin." Mrs Cavanaugh said.

Sam slept but he didn't rest. His dreams were filled with images of his brother. Past images melding together with his imaginations worst. He tossed fitfully in the bed, moaning softly, but he stayed asleep. That is until the dreams turned to vision. He sat up in the bed calling out his brothers name.

Missouri entered the room as if on cue carrying a cup of coffee for each man. "You boys gotta wake up and fast. It's time "

John sat up and rubbed his face. It was a little less painful to do so after a few hours of real sleep, not induced sleep. He took the cup and drank from it and looked over at Sam. "Another vision?" He said. "Got a lead on where to go?" He looked at Missouri . "Thanks, this is good. Hits the spot." He got off the bed and pulled on his shoes. "Come on, let's go get your brother."

Sam and Missouri compared notes on Sam's vision and Ash's research, then sorted out which direction they would need to go in and what signs to look for to indicate they were at the right place. It had to be near water and water in Kansas was a precious commodity. With Sam's visions of a farm house and the horse trailer, it was some what easy to sort out the right direction, because there was nothing but new developments outside of town the other way. And freeway on the other side of the creek.

"You be careful… and you bring that boy back here. " She told them. He was going to need all the TLC he could get after this.

"Will do." John said with a wave as they headed out to the Impala. "Gonna have a talk with Dean about keeping the car clean too, I see." He grumbled a bit as he got behind the driver's wheel. "Don't argue. If you have another vision, you'll run us right off the road."

"Yes, sir." Sam said for the first time since finding John again. "You're starting to sound like yourself again" He said as he pulled a bag up into the front seat and started discretely checking the weapons as his father drove. "How you feeling?" He asked, wanting to assess the situation before they wound up neck deep in cultists.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He said as they pulled onto the road. "I'm fine. I'm good. Sore as hell, and I could use a beer, but it'll pass. I'll feel a lot better when we get Dean back." He didn't have close to a full memory back. Just feelings, images, intuition. And he knew that he needed both his boys under one roof where he could keep them as safe as he could until it came back.

"It's a good thing." Sam said with a smile. It was good to have his father back. He had missed him. Even missed their fighting to some degree. Besides, it would put Dean at ease to have his fathers personality back to where he was used to it being. "I don't think we have to worry about whether or not you remember how to shoot." The man had been a marine. It was hardwired into his body before he ever became a hunter. Some things never went away. Firepower they were good on, but it was going to be the other stuff that would be tricky. "In my vision they were preparing Dean for something. I don't think it was the ritual… I think the ritual is meant to prepare him. "

"Then he's the ritual." John said as he drove, turning where Sam indicated. "He's the centerpoint. Without him, this can't happen, definitely could screw up their day if we ruined that for them. I'm into ruining people's days today, how about you?" He took one of the weapons and checked it as he drove, with one hand. Because somethings were indeed hardwired.

"I'm there… " Sam said. "Wouldn't mind ending the day for all of that." He normally balked at the thought of killing humans. He even sometimes questioned the necessity of killing all the things that they killed. But these people… these weren't people they were soldier ants for some demon. And they had his brother. "Explains why they went after him after he survived the circle. They need someone who can last long enough for whatever they are doing to work. "

His mind when then to cleansing rituals, ways to fix what ever they might be doing to Dean but there was no way to know what that was. Or what the end purpose was intended to be.

"If this cult isn't a localized thing… they're gonna come after him again. "

"I know." John said. "And we won't let them. I'll think of something. I have some time at least for that part." He could multitask that part at least. Part of his mind was centered on how to keep his boys safe after this was done, even as one part focused on how to get one boy safe from harm now.

"This is starting to look familiar." Sam said, now scanning the area in earnest. "There, see.? The stream running past the property, there's the horse trailer out front." He began to tuck weapons away on his person. That was where his brother was. He just hoped they were in time.

John pulled the Impala behind a grove of trees and kept the keys in the ignition. He got out and cracked the back door for quicker access as he strapped ammo and other things he'd need to himself. "It's go time." He said with a nod toward Sam. "No waiting, no hesitation. They get between us and Dean, they go down. You got it?" He didn't know for fact, but his youngest seemed the more...well...sensitive of the bunch.

"Yes sir." Sam said, and swallowed. He was about to commit murder. So much for a legal career. There wasn't any other choice though. Other than let them kill his brother and he couldn't allow that. Not now, not ever. He got out of the car, and didn't latch the door. If there were survivors they would be hot on their heels. They might not even be able to take him back to Missouri 's.

"You can shoot them in the knees if you want. They can't follow us that way." John said as they headed toward the back of the farm house. "Great, torches, black dogs, thought I saw someone in a robe...definite ritual material. Let's hope they're not armed as well. We get Dean, we get out."

All it took was one scream of absolute agony from his brother and any compassion he might have felt for there being human beings was rent asunder. He took aim at Mrs. Cavanaugh and pulled the trigger, not bothering with knees. He needed her to shut up, and there was only one way to ensure that happened. He didn't seen the look of surprise on his father's face as he waded in.

Theirs weren't the only guns being fired but John was trained in combat, and knew how to keep his head down and keep moving, it didn't take much to get Sam to follow suit. Not that either man would have noticed a wound if there had been one. They were of a single mind and a single purpose, saving Dean. Dogs and humans alike were either wounded or killed depending on the nature of the threat they posed.

John took the torches and kicked the brazier over spilling oil and fire over the circle as Sam untied Dean's hands and feet. But it was John that bent down to scoop his son up into his arms. "It's alright… you're safe now." He told him as he carried him toward the car.

"Dad?" Dean muttered, sounding awfully young as he was carried off the altar and off the grounds toward the Impala. It wasn't an easy carry, Dean was a grown man after all. And John had wounds of his own he was contending with. But tit didn't seem that way as John cradled his oldest son as if he were still a small boy until they got to the Impala.

"Yeah, I'm here." John said as he got the door open with his foot and laid his son as gently as he could in the back seat, each groan coming from Dean making him wince. Then he straightened up and looked at the farm house. "Stay with your brother." He said to Sam. "I'll be back in five minutes." He was a marine underneath it all. He would be securing the area. If no one escaped, hopefully no one would know that Dean was the 'one.'

Sam managed to wriggle his long lanky form into the back seat and opened up the first aid kit. "Hey." He said trying to smile a little. "If you wanted to go home you could have asked you know." He said letting him know in his own way where they were, as he started to patch him up, starting with the bleeding rope burns on his wrists.

John meanwhile was carrying the remains of the cultists into the house, making sure they were positioned in what would become the heat of the fire. It might be obvious that they were killed before the fire but it wouldn't be traceable and that was important, they didn't need the law as well as any other cultists after them. He made sure the house was dowsed with any accelerant he could get his hands on before blowing out the pilot light and turning all the burners up on high.

He lit the fire and hurried out of the house, back toward his sons.

"Home?" Dean whispered. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how far away he was from the last place he had remembered. He'd lost track of time. He'd just floated through. And on that altar, he swear he saw bright lights. He'd never mention it to anyone, but he was sure they were there. "Home..." He said before he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"How is he?" John said. The fire was burning hot and fast. Only a matter of time before someone spotted the smoke above the treelines. He closed all the doors and started the Impala, pulling back out onto the roads and back to Missouri 's. Driving with one hand, to keep his other hand firmly on Dean's arm in the backseat.

"Out cold." Sam said. "I think he has a concussion, but I'll worry about keeping him awake once I have his ribs set." He told him as he started working on the other hand. "A lot of pain… weak. I don't know what effect the ritual has had on him."

He taped his brother's ribs. "I don't think any of them are broken but he is bruised all to hell."

"Probably a good thing he's out." John said. "He'll wake up hurting, but he'll wake up in a warm bed, fixed up, safe." He nodded to himself. Yes, it was better that Dean was out for now. His jaw clenched at every unconscious moan that came out of his oldest son's mouth. Any guilt he might have had was washed away in the sound of Dean in pain. Now, he felt they got off easy.

"We stayed at this one hotel, remember it? In Wisconsin ." It was a good memory. "It had a pool and Dean tried to teach you how to swim. You were so afraid of the water. Then some toddler came running and knocked you in. You picked up the doggy paddle quick, didn't you?" Keeping himself afloat for the few seconds it took John to dive in and get to him. It just came to him, he had no idea why.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I remember. Dean was all upset about it too, blamed himself even though you didn't blame him. " John hadn't been a complete ogre about it all . He knew some things were just normal parts of life. "And he was even more insistent that I learn how to swim." He looked at his brother as he took an alcohol pad to start trying to remove the India Ink from his body, uncertain what the symbols were doing to his brother. He would remember them if he saw them again. Would sketch them out at the first opportunity.

He found the head wound by accident, it was buried deep in his brother's hair. "This is gonna need stitches." He said.

"Stitches as in call ahead to Missouri to have everything ready or stitches as instead go to a hospital?" John asked, worriedly. He wanted his son taken care of, but he couldn't go to the hospital with those marks all over his body. Way too many questions to pass off as a bar fight.

"No...hospital..." Dean muttered, trying to swat Sam's hand away from his head injury. It hurt to have it touched after all.

Sam, looked closer at the wound in spite of Dean's objections. "Doesn't look like his head is cracked. Just the skin. It's stopped bleeding too so once we get there I can stitch it up. " He told his father. "They did that early on from the looks of it." He frowned at the marks on him. "Gonna have to get these off some how… or add to them. I'm getting the creeps off some of them."

"You always did have a hard head, Dean." John said, managing a chuckle as he squeezed Dean's arm as he drove, pulling into Missouri 's driveway and parking the car. He released Dean long enough to turn the ignition off, get out of the car and gather Dean back into his arms to carry him back into the house.

"Missouri , we're back!" John called out and brought Dean into a spare bedroom, ignoring the living room. His son was going to rest in a real bed.

Sam followed closely behind with the first aid kit. He looked worriedly over to Missouri and followed his father into the bedroom. "Dad… sit down and take it easy, okay." He said and moved to the opposite side of the bed from where his father was. He didn't need both of them down for the count. "Do you have anything that could remove this ink with out taking his skin with it?" He asked her and she left to go into the bath room and returned with cold cream.

"Cool." He said. "Thanks." He handed it over to his father to give him something to do while he sterilized a needle and prepared to stitch up that head wound. "Sorry if this hurts man… don't dare give you anything with that concussion."

Dean chuckled a bit at that as his father started lathering up his arm with the cold cream which was, well, cold. "Kinda numb anyway..." He said. Everything hurt, it was hard to pin down where something individual hurt.

John gave Sam a worried look as he worked the cream into his son's skin, and then wiped it off with the towel. It was a slow process, and needed to be repeated, but it was working. "You're gonna be fine." He said firmly.

"So you are finally agreeing with me that you are a numbskull" Sam teased as he worked, At least Dean was talking That was a good sign under the circumstances. "there… don't worry, your hair will cover my sloppy stitches. " He said then joined his father in rubbing the ink off of his brother "you're gonna smell like a girl when we're done… be all soft too"

"Uh huh." Dean said as he drifted back into unconsciousness, only to be roused by his father slapping his face. "What? Stop it."

"Dean, you need to stay awake. You want to stay out of the hospital, you stay awake." He said in a firm, authoritive voice. Dean looked at him almost in surprise, that sounded like the dad he knew.

"Dad?" He said, blinking a couple of times. "You're back?"

"Almost." John said, with relief that Dean was staying awake as best he could, and went back to getting the ink off him. "Almost."

"Yeah… we even argued all the way here. So you know he is coming back to himself." Sam said with a grin. "Wouldn't you know the only two places in the country that have the right conditions for this little ordeal they were trying to put you through, are New Orleans and Lawrence Kansas. " He told his brother. "All things considered it didn't seem much of a stretch to head back here."

"Would rather it happened in New Orleans ." Dean muttered as his father pinched him when his eyes started to close. "I was blinking!"

"No, you weren't blinking." John said. "At least here in Lawrence it was easier to find you. A whole lot less people to deal with. And we had Missouri here to hide us out while you recover." He finished his side of Dean's body and dried him off with the towel.

"Ow...my head hurts." Dean moaned.

"About time." John replied.

"Tell you what… I will look for something to hunt in New Orleans . Sam said with a laugh. Dean wanted easy sex and easy drink right then he was sure cause anything that wasn't easy would get away from him in his condition. "Just stay awake. You have a concussion in case the ringing in your ears wasn't a big enough clue."

"And if I sleep, it will go away." Dean protested. "Thought you were going to go to law school, not med school." He grumbled.

"If you sleep, there's a chance you'll go away too. And I did not come back from the dead to trade places with you, you got that?" John said and fished out some pain killers. "Can't give you much, because it might knock you out, but this should help." Dean took the pills and tossed them back dry, just grateful to have anything in his system that might stop some of this pain. "We'll stay here until you're healed up." John said, deciding that, his tone booking no argument on that subject.

"Besides, familiar territory might help Dad remember a little faster." He said knowing Dean well enough that he would respond to someone else's needs faster than he would his own. "He's already remembered to nag about the car."

"Thanks for reminding me." John said.

"The car is fine." Dean remarked.

"It's dirty. It's also a classic, and because it's older than you, prone to rust." John pointed out. Like the marine training, mechanical knowledge was second nature. "And when was the last time you had the oil changed? Sounds like it could use a good tune up. Definitely rides like it could."

"Dad..." Dean said, but he was smiling a tiny bit. It was like old times.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and John entered the room together. Quietly, not arguing, not glaring, but more as a unified front. Dean had never seen anything so frightening in all his life. "So, either I'm dying again or ya'll have been hanging out with the pod people." He looked from one man to the other, with a wary eye.

"No pod people." John said.

"Definitely not dying." Sam added. "We're going on vacation."

"Okay where'd you hide my gun? This is seriously not funny. You're creeping me out, man." Dean said getting out of bed. It still hurt to move. Hell, it still hurt to breathe. "I'm fine. Been dinged up worse than this " he laughed a little, "more times than I like to count. We don't gotta go on vacation."

"Yes, we do." Sam said. "You need down time."

"I've had down time, any more down time, and I'm gonna go bug nuts." Dean stated pulling on his shirt. "See, standing upright, fully clothed, not passing out no need for down time."

Sam looked at John, who rolled his eyes and sighed a bit. And pushed his oldest son back down on the bed. With one finger to Dean's chest.

"Not so upright, kiddo." John said. "You may have had down time, but my down time doesn't count." It was the trump card he and Sam were hoping they wouldn't have to play. "I was dead, remember? That doesn't count as a down time. So I reckon it's been about...twenty three years since I last took a vacation, right? I figure coming back from the dead and saving my oldest from some sacrificial ritual counts as earning some down time."

Because neither he nor Sam were going to admit the real ulterior motive, lay really low and keep Dean off the radar. And they were sure Dean wouldn't think of it himself. He wasn't used to being on a supernatural radar. Police? Sure. Feds? Been there, done that. Weird ass cult needing him as the ultimate key to a ritual? That was unfamiliar.

But John's reasoning worked. After all, after John's death, how many times had Dean kicked himself for not slowing down, not making John slow down, even for a day, and be father and son, not two hunters on a mystical trail?

And it hurt when John poked his chest. Even if John didn't do it hard. Dean was definitely not up to par, even if he would never admit it. Hell, he walked out of a hospital with heart failure. Woke up from being nearly brain dead. Gotten his ass kicked so many times it was amazing he had any ass left to be kicked. This? This was nothing.

But something that passed as a vacation...now that his father was alive. And things were slowly coming back to him...John needed some time, away from the sigil that had incapacitated him. Away from the hunt. To readjust to life again, and to readjust to being John again. That, Dean could see. That, Dean could accept.

"Where are we going?" Dean said, resigned. "And if any of you say Disney World, I will find my gun. Pod people."

" Florida does sound good. Little fun a lot of sun Dean's looking pale. I don't do pale." Sam said. "And if I were a pod person I wouldn't be nearly so excited about this."

Dean still looked at him suspiciously. Sam was cheerful, that was never good. Either something dramatic happened to ruin his mood, or he was faking it. Happy didn't happen to Winchesters any more than normal did.

"We'll have to get the car detailed before we go. She looks like shit." John said with a frown. "I can't believe you boys have been leaving her like that."

"Dad, it's a car." Sam said dismissively, only to be glared at by his father and brother.

"I just rebuilt her." Dean said defensively. "Give me a break. We were totaled by a semi"

"Well it's a good thing you've got me here to take care of it then. Come on, if you're so upright on your feet, let's go make sure she can make the trip while Sam takes care of the arrangements. Nice hotel this time." Again staying off the radar. They would be looking at the cheapest of the cheap to find them. Although coming from John a nice hotel was not the same as it was from other people.

"On it." Sam said going for the lap top.

"I knew it pod people." Dean said looking at the two of them as though they had grown second heads.

"Dean, I said let's go check the car." John said in his 'you will listen to me or I will show you why you will listen to me voice,' which made his sons' eyebrows go up as they exchanged a look.

"Yes sir." Dean said. So much for the guy who liked to sleep a lot! He got to his feet again and followed John out. "Are you two really serious about this?" He wasn't ruling out pod people. Or possession. Or psychotic break with reality. If he was really the last non-possessed, fully sane Winchester in his original body...the world was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. Like DEFCON 1 trouble.

"We're really serious about this." John said. "I have a lot of my life I have to get back. Seems my memory was only jarred around you two, so might as well keep you two close."

"Oh. Okay." Dean said as they headed out to the Impala. What? Was he hoping for something more? From John?

John looked at his son. He knew a lot about the father he had been. He'd taught his sons how to hunt, and how to survive. And since both his sons were here, he'd taught them well. Everything else...seemed to have slipped past the wayside when his wife died.

Water under the bridge was one thing. Repeating mistakes was quite another.

"And...you know...I thought that we...all three of us...could...you know..."

Dean nearly smiled at that. "Oh. Okay." He said in a much lighter tone as he looked at the car. "Any recent dirt is all you. I was minimally conscious in the back seat." Dean didn't get his aversion to heartfelt moments from no one after all.

" Florida 's nice this time of year. We could both use some sun." John said, inspecting a wheel well.

"Girls in skimpy suits, could get near spring break, which means drunk rebellious girls in skimpy suits..." Dean said, waggling his eyebrows as he popped the hood.

"If I could knock you down with one finger, imagine getting tackled by co-eds." John said.

"But what a way to go." Dean said. "Engine's good. See you changed the oil."

"Someone had to."

Dean rolled his eyes "We've been a little busy." He said then shifted uncomfortably under the look that his father gave him but said nothing about it. "I'll get the trunk cleaned out."

Sam sat at the lap top arranging for a nice hotel, so he found a small privately owned motel off the beaten path. A family run business swallowed up in obscurity because it was on back roads when the freeway came through. He frowned a little then started to research the area to make sure that there wasn't any blatant supernatural activity. This was NOT supposed to be a working vacation.

He smiled when Missouri came into the room and handed him a cup of coffee.

"You know this isn't over by a long shot, Sammy." Missouri said, looking at the boy with worried eyes.

"I know. That's why we're doing this." He glanced out the window making sure he saw his brother outside and nowhere within ear shot. "Getting Dean off the radar."

"You have more than Dean to worry about right now. You're caught in the middle of a cross fire. Two demons each one wanting to claim one of you boys, and I promise you Sammy, they aren't friends. I don't know how they brought your father back or what effect that is going to have on things. You were talking about a coming storm, but this is huge"

"We can handle it." Sam said. Because they had no choice. Dean wouldn't let Sam be demon fodder, and Sam wouldn't let some demon get at his brother. And John was holding them both close. They had no choice. "The demon world should know that three Winchesters together working together, or vacationing together, isn't something to mess with." He believed that too.

Missouri sat down. "Sam, there's trouble coming. I can't get a handle on it, it's too big for even me." And that said a lot. "When everything comes down on your heads, you have to be prepared."

"Dean and Dad...they need rest. Or they're no good to anyone, least of all to themselves." Sam said, as if he had to defend this.

"I know that." Missouri said, gently. "I'm just telling you to keep your eyes open. Especially when they can't."

"I will." He promised her, and started to think about doing research while the others rested but knew that wouldn't be a good idea. They wouldn't rest if he didn't keep an eye on them. He sighed heavily. "To be honest this whole thing scares the hell out of me." He confided. "They weren't trying to kill Dean, no matter how close they came to it." He shook his head.

"I know. I would worry if it didn't scare you." She told him sadly. "Just be careful. Keep your eyes open and you pay attention to those dreams of yours. Write them down. It's important that you write them down, even if you don't think they are prophetic."

Sam nodded, then looked up hearing his father and brother returning. Their voices carried through the house, discussing things they should do to the car while they had the chance. Suspension, tires, filters and plugs. Sam smiled, hearing them go at it. "Now that sounds normal."

"Boys will be boys." Missouri said with a soft chuckle.

"I'm telling you, I rebuilt it." Dean was saying. "Everything on that car is basically new."

"Basically? Because your brakes are sticking." John countered.

"Well, they've had a work out." Dean said. "And I'm not the only one driving it all the time either." He said, pointing to Sam.

"Leave me out of your Stephen King story." Sam said as he finished making the hotel reservations. "I drive the car, that's it. I don't tuck it in at night, I don't sing it to sleep, I don't share pillow talk with it...hey!" He said as he got a pillow thrown at him.

Missouri looked pointedly at the pillow now on the floor, then at Dean, who finally picked it up. And got swatted upside the head. "I heard that." She said.

Dean rubbed the back of his head."We ready? Before I get another concussion?"

"Before you earn another concussion." Missouri corrected. "Sandwiches are made, on the table on the way out. Thermos of coffee. Should be able to get at least across Louisiana before you need a refill."

Louisiana wasn't Sam's favorite route since New Orleans was the other point of power Ash mentioned. But it was the fastest route to Florida . "Come on." He said. "I'm the least wounded, I'm driving."

"I don't think so." Dean and John said in unison, and the argument was on until they were out the door and John settled into the driver's seat while the boys packed the car.

"Why do I feel 12 all the sudden?" Sam asked putting the last of the bags in the car.

"Yeah I know." Dean said with a grin. "It's great." He said as he got into the front passenger's seat, leaving Sam to sprawl in back. And so it stayed through Kansas and Oklahoma . They only spoke of things supernatural in the past tense. Sharing adventures they had all shared together with their father. Laughing about things they had done as boys. It was a good drive, and they were exhausted when they pulled into a Motel 6 and Sam went to take care of getting the room.

"You know this vacation is supposedly about you and me, but I think Sam needs it more than either of us." Dean said as he watched his brother go into the lobby. Sam wasn't used to being the protector. Dean knew that. He knew what a weight that job could be. Even though he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"We all need it." John said. "Just because he doesn't have our physical wounds from this last go-round doesn't mean he doesn't have wounds." He'd seen the look of near panic in Sam's eyes as he figured out what was being done to Dean, the desperation on his face when they'd found Dean, and for a few moments, hadn't known whether he was dead or alive. The first time John had opened his eyes to see his sons there, men he didn't immediately recognize or have any feeling of remembrance toward, and the look of despair, guilt, and hope warring in Sam's eyes. "We've never had a break of any kind. Not since your mother died."

"I know." Dean said. There was a beat of silence, John and Dean were always comfortable in silence with each other.

"He doesn't have all of your memories." John said quietly, and Dean looked at him. "I don't either, but at least I have an excuse. Sammy...he doesn't remember the normal family. He doesn't remember a father that knew how to throw a football, not shoot a crossbow at a demon. It's inexcusable, what I did to you boys. I did what I thought was best, and I might have been wrong. Can't go back, no sense apologizing. Just try to go on better now."

"A somewhat normal family vacation is definitely what's needed then." Dean agreed. Much more in line with it now that it had little or nothing to do with him. At least in how his own mind processed it.

Sam came out of the lobby and motioned for them to follow him over to the room, which was just a few doors down from the lobby. He was tired and he hadn't even been the one driving. That had been John. He could only imagine how tired the other two were. He had only gotten one room because with Missouri 's warnings; he didn't want to let either of them out of his sight. He had to keep his eyes open when they couldn't, she had said.

He unlocked the door and scoped the place out, setting his back pack down he pulled out the brick dust and started laying it across the window ledges as John and Dean unpacked the car.

John was worried about his youngest son, and he hoped that the down time would actually pay off for Sam as much as it was going to for Dean. He watched as the boys made the room safe and set weapons about where they could be gotten to but not easily seen. "I'm gonna hit the showers." He said. "Why don't you boys see about getting us something to eat?"

Dean sat down stiffly on the bed. The drive hadn't done anything for him. Oh the talks were great, the music rocked, but body wise, absolutely nothing. He found the phonebook and started flipping through it to see what was in town.

"Hey!" He said. "Hooters!"

"Dean, I really don't think now is the time to scope out a date." Sam said, but laughed anyway.

"Date? Who said anything about date? I'm talking wings. The wings and the beer."

"Sure."

"They have female waitresses there? You're kidding me! Really?" Dean said with a look of wide eyed innocence that hinted at everything but.

"We're not eating at Hooters. I am not eating at a Hooters with my FATHER." Sam said.

"Oh come on. Manly bonding time." Dean said, holding up the page with the full page Hooters ad. "Eh? Eh? What do you think? Come on."

"You know, there's a diner across the street. Why don't I go get some trays from there?" Sam suggested instead.

"Killjoy." Dean said. "Dad! Sam won't let me go to Hooters just because he can walk better than me right now!" He said, laughing.

"There is just something wrong about Hooters as a family restaurant. Okay?" Sam said as he grabbed one of the credit cards. "Just promise me you two will stay out of trouble until I get back." He said and tossed his jacket on again. "And no porn . . . that's just too weird with Dad around." He said as he headed out the door.

For once he was the safe one. He wasn't the one someone had plans for. Wasn't the one that needed to be taken care of. He should have felt relief or something, but instead worrying about the others was anything but relieving. His own safety was nothing in comparison to those men back in the hotel room. Was this what Dean dealt with every day? Every time he gave him that look and told him to be careful was this what he was feeling? Did his Dad feel this way every time he had left them to go hunting? It had been easy growing up to let himself believe that John just simply hadn't cared at all but he knew better now. With his father's walls down most of the time for the last couple weeks Sam had seen a different side of the man. If this was how the two of them felt every time they walked away well, it explained a lot.

He paid for the meals and took them back to the motel. John was seated on the bed, and nodding. "The knock." He said with a smile. "You still use it"

"Not as often as we should." Sam admitted. "Usually only if we'reexpecting trouble. Should probably fix that." He said as he handed his father's meal over to him "Dean in the shower?"

"Yeah taking his time, don't expect hot water." John said, although he suspected Dean needed a little privacy.

"I never do. He's always calling me a girl but he's the one that has to look perfect all the time."

"I think he's still trying to get the cold cream off." John said with a chuckle as he opened his meal and started to eat. He gave Sam an appraising look. "You do need a hair cut." He said with a nod. "Might be where the 'girl' thing comes from." Even in his 'shaggy' days, some remembered, some he saw in pictures, his hair had still always been shorter than Sam's. "Your grandmother once said men with curls in their hair, if they wear it long enough, look like girls or poodles." He said and chuckled. "And there's another one. Your mother's mother. Back when we were dating, of course I had a buzz cut then." Having been in boot camp for the Marine Corp. Little things came back every now and again, when he wasn't expecting it, clear as day, as if he had never forgotten.

"Yeah, but Dad if I cut my hair I look 12." He said. "Tried it my junior year in college, you wouldn't believe the Doogie Howser jokes. Even Jess teased me about it." He said and smiled a little sadly. It never seemed to get any easier to talk about her. Probably because he never talked about her. He just relived her death over and over in his sleep. "So no so called manly hair cuts until  you know I look my age or something." He said with a laugh.

"Good luck with that." Dean said as he came out of the shower wrapped in a towel. "You'll be hitting forty waiting for your face to catch up. I'm telling ya, man, you're a girl. Face it you're a girl."

"I'm not the one to talk to if you want a sister, but I promise you  Jess wasn't into girls." He said smiling remembering their meeting. Poor Jess had been so confused by it all, and he hated how things had ended up, but he loved the look on his brother's face as he realized Jess was Sam's girls. It was points it was big time points to have a girl that his brother was impressed with, and was intelligent. Sometimes he liked to think that Jess could have handled it all if she had survived. That she could have accepted the realities of the world and his part in them. But then he shook it off. He didn't even deal with it well, how could he have expected Jess to.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you." John said, trying not to laugh himself. "Seen pictures of me at your age, Dean. When you're hitting forty, this," he pointed at his own face, "is what you have to look forward to. Maybe worse." He already knew what a drain the life they led could have on a body. If his sons even made it to forty. He'd do his best to make sure they did, that they hit a better forty, a better forty five, a better fifty than he could ever hope to.

"Wonderful." Dean said, shaking his head as his brother handed him his food. "So, no Hooters?"

"No Hooters." Sam said with a laugh. "We're calling it an early night, so we can get on the road nice and early in the morning." The sooner they got to their vacation, the less chance they'd get waylaid.

"That means no porn." John said with a straight face.

Dean pointed at Sam. "He's the one with the porn addiction!"

"One movie---!"

"That I know of." Dean interjected.

"And I'm labeled an addict!"

It didn't take much for them to honestly make an early night of it. John and Dean were both still recovering and exhausted. Sam sat up ostensibly waiting for the hot water to build up enough for him to take a shower. But he wasn't sure he should sleep. She had said keep his eyes open when they couldn't. Well to him that meant when they slept. So he stayed awake.

He set the coffee pot to brewing while he took his shower then came back to sit down at his computer, chatting with Ash over the internet about their research into the cult behind it all. One of the reasons they had chosen to go to Florida was that it wasn't on the same water system as the map at all. Although Ash was suggesting that the map had been bait more than a genuine clue. Set up to lead them into the human trap to determine which one was the key sacrifice.

Dean twitched in his sleep, and Sam rose, laying a hand on his brother's arm. "Dad's still here." He said softly, having a feeling he knew what the dream was about. "You're safe." He told him then went to get another cup of coffee before sitting down with his journal to document everything he hadn't had time to document before.

Dean sat up as Sam accidentally jarred his chair. "Dude, go to sleep." He said, rubbing his eyes.

"I will." Sam said as he continued writing.

"Unless you're writing Penthouse, it can wait until we're driving." Dean pointed out and got out of bed and padded off to the bathroom. He did his business and came back out, sitting across from his brother. He couldn't help but glance over at his father, still sleeping, across the room. "Doesn't seem real, does it? Still?" He said with a shake of his head.

"He bitched about the car. I'd say it's real." Sam said with a laugh. "And he knew what he was doing when we rescued you."

"I prefer the term liberated to rescue, thank you." Dean said as he stood up and stretched, joints cracking and popping back into place. From his ankles all the way up to his neck, which he then rolled. He scruffed Sam's hair. "I mean it, get some sleep."

"I will." Sam repeated, smiling a bit at it. Even with their father in the room, nearly the father they never had, Dean was still the caretaker. It was a stabilizing thing that was good right now. And reminding him to sleep was harmless as far as care taking went.

"Better." Dean said. "Or no way are you driving." He yawned again and crawled back into his bed, burying himself under the thin motel blankets as he rolled on his stomach, out again, like a light.

Sam finished up the train of thought he was working on then said goodnight to Ash on line. Who knew it would be so hard to take a vacation, he thought to himself as he turned off the computer and put things away, before slipping carefully under the covers and falling asleep before he was even fully settled in.

He knew he was dreaming. And it started out such a good dream. He was making dinner in the kitchen of his apartment in Palo Alto . Everything felt safe, secure. There was no weapon within easy reach, unless you counted the paring knife in his hand, there was no salt along the window ledge. The music was intense but it was mellow as well. Meatloaf ironically what he was making for dinner, which made him laugh. "Meatloaf again?" He said and was promptly pelted with a mushroom.

He grinned over at Jess and tossed it back at her. It was a dream. He knew it. But he didn't want it to end. He wanted to turn back the clock so badly to go back to these times when the world made sense and he felt as though he were in control of his own destiny not some demon with his plans and schemes.

Another night sleeplessI don't want to feel thisNothing can stop this painTrying to get toA time I forget youStill tangled in yesterday

Okay so his subconscious had strange ideas about what was and wasn't good dream music. Could have been 'I Would Do Anything For Love' or even "Bat Out of Hell' but no it was this one.

"It's okay, Sam." She said as she stepped in closer and caressed his face softly. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault." She told him gently.

I want you to cry over meDie over meEven for a momentEven for a moment

He closed his arms around her, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, even as his eyes threatened to fill with tears. "I would." He told her, his voice tight, ragged.

"Would what, Baby?"

"Die for you I-"

"Shhhhh." She told him, laying her hand over his mouth "That's not what this is about. You have to let go Sam. You have to let go of the pain if you don't you'll never find a safe place inside yourself. You have to find that place, let me be that place."

"You were that place." He said, gazing into her eyes.

"No, Sam I wasn't. " She said "It was always Dean. But he can't be that safe place anymore." She said as she walked away from him, "You have to cry Sam let it go let all the anger and hatred go. It's not your fault. "

"What are you talking about?" He asked. "Let's just let this go for now pleasejust stay with me." He needed her. God how he needed her. Everything that was good in him was tied up in her and she was gone. How could she say that Dean was his home, his haven. It was her. Dean was his brother, his guardian his pain in the ass. He loved his brother. But Jess was his hope. Had been his future

But now she wasn't and she was walking away. "Jess!" He called after her, following, knowing it was just a dream that it wasn't real, not even noticing that the scenery had changed.

"Didn't I mean anything to you, Sam?"

"Don't say that." He paused looking around him. "Where are we?"

"Does it matter? Aren't I enough?" She asked him, almost accusingly. "Don't you want to be with me anymore Sam?"

"Sam!" It was Dean's voice in the distance, into the trees. "Sam you come back to me, damn it."

He started to go toward Dean but Jess grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her. "You have to find that safe place, Sammy, You can't go to him this time. If you go to him you lose me forever."

Sam shrugged free of her then. "I love you, and I would give almost anything to be with you, but you're gone. Dean is real and you're just a dream."

"Sam!! Sam I know you're in there. Don't do this. Don't let this happen. You fight!" His brothers voice called.

Her eyes shifted yellow then. "Oh no, Sam, I am very much real. And if you want to be a real boy you'll come back here when the time is right " She said and the scene shifted once more to the apartment. "You'll come back here, and you'll bolt and salt the doors." She smiled

"Sam!!" It was Dean again, standing at the door, unable to get in. "Sam you've gotta come out come on man, don't leave me like this."

"Dean?" He asked and started to step closer but couldn't. Looking down he saw the cipher beneath his feet.

"Sam!" Dean was screaming at Sam from his fixed position at the door, stretching out his arm. "Sam, take my hand. Take it dammit!"

He stretched his arm out as far as he could, leaning as far forward as he could, reaching for his brother...

And apparently reached him. Or not.

All Sam knew was he was being shaken. By Dean. "Sam! Wake up!" He said as Sam finally opened his eyes. "You didn't drink any of Dad's beer, did you?"

"No, why would I?" Sam said, trying to shake himself awake, but not lose the dream. Not lose it until he had written it down. And cling to Jessica's image as he always did for those few moments of peace it brought him.

"Because I slipped him a mickey." Dean said, glancing over at their father, who was still fast asleep. "A light one, but I didn't want him waking up. Not after everything. Guy's finally relaxing a bit. Didn't want a little bump in the night waking him up."

"Bump in the night?"

"Yeah, you falling off the bed." Dean said and Sam realized he was on the floor. "Woke me up. And I was having this great dream about this strip club I went to outside Phoenix ..." He grinned as Sam stood up.

"Gotta use the bathroom." He said, stealthily sneaking his journal and tucking it into his side.

"Sam?" Dean said, standing up himself. "What kind of dream was it?"

Sam met his brother's eyes. It wasn't a lie. "Just a dream. The kind that don't mean

anything."

Dean was still awake when Sam came back out of the bathroom, he noticed the journal

this time but didn't say anything about it. He had heard somewhere that it was good to write down your nightmares. "Sam are you okay?" He asked. Everyone had been worried about him since the whole near sacrifice thing, but Sam was looking pretty ragged.

"Yeah." Sam said as he put the journal in his bag and zipped it closed. "It was just another Jess dream." He said running a hand through his hair. "Sorry I woke you up."

"It's no big." Dean said looking at his brother worriedly. He supposed he was lucky Sam

hadn't taken the same route to dealing with it John had. He could have drowned it in tequila and violence. Still it worried him. It had been more than a year and he was still having night mares. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah let's just go to sleep." He said as he got back into bed.

The morning came quickly and Sam pasted on his smile. The dream the night before still plagued him. Jess with yellow eyes. Jess doubting his love. He made small talk as they had breakfast and settled into the passenger's side front seat, leaving John in the back seat this time. Dean insisted on driving. He was convinced that Sam had only slept long enough to fall out of bed and shouldn't be driving if he couldn't even sleep straight.

So Sam sat in front, writing in his journal, finishing up what he had started the night before. "Okay so, we should be able to make it to the hotel tonight. Vacation officially starts tomorrow."

"So what do people do on vacation?" Dean asked. "Like...sight seeing?"

"Not hunt." Sam said, not looking up from his journal. "Not go looking for trouble. Not start any fights just to start a fight and get us run out of town before I can even get a tan. Not..."

"Got it, got it. Sheesh, talk about sucking the fun out of life." Dean said as he switched tapes.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out." John said from the back with a quiet chuckle. Why did he feel like he had a hang over? And was it bad that he remembered hang overs?

Dean nearly jumped, but managed not to. Not used to hearing his father's voice yet, especially coming from the back seat of all places. "We're still going to Hooters."

"What is it with you and Hooters?" Sam asked, finally putting his pen down for a moment to give his brother an exasperated look.

"That reaction right there. That's what's with me and Hooters." Dean said laughing.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"You're both brats." John said as he found a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, then grinned. He knew why his dad was feeling this way. But it was good for him.

The drive passed pleasantly enough, Dean made good time. But once him and His Car got into a groove, they seemed to fly, hovering low over the roads, the scenery passing by in streaks and blurs until he pulled in front of the hotel.

"Wow. It's a hotel. Not a motel. Good job Sammy."

"quiet, scenic no supernatural activity for 300 miles as far as I or Ash can tell. Not that it isn't there but if its too low for Ash's radar we don't want to know what it is." Sam pointed out "Already on the credit card, all that has to happen is for one of the Mr. Jacksons to go in and check us in" He said going through the ID's in the glove box and handed them out. "This is mine" He said in regard to that particular credit card.

"Credit card fraud?" John asked from the back seat.

"Gotta pay the bills some how" Dean said with a shrug "Not like hunting comes with a paycheck and an insurance policy."

"Okay, well I will go and get us checked in" Sam said as he got out of the car and grabbed his own gear. He would leave them to duke it out over the rest. He had been handling the bills so to speak so that his father wouldn't have to hear about the way they handled the money until he was more himself. It was a mild reaction compared to what he had been expecting 2 days ago John would have had a cow about it.

He got the key to the suite of rooms, two bedrooms a kitchenette and sitting room. Not at all expensive because it was a back roads hotel. Usually only haunted by regulars and stranded motorists. Dean and John joined him shortly and he led the way to the elevator. Like the rest of the hotel it was art deco in design, mid to late 20s. Once the elevator door closed Sam looked to his father and brother "I don't care if something moves the covers in the night.. don't care if we wake up to see someone's granny hanging over the bed by a noose if it isn't attacking people  we don't see it. We don't touch it it isn't our problem." It was an old building. There had to be a ghost somewhere in the place.

"If Granny's hanging by a noose over my bed, that's a problem." Dean said with a laugh. "I at least get to ask her to leave."

"Credit card fraud?" John asked again as he dropped his bags on a chair.

Dean grinned. "Do not give us that look. Who do you think taught us?" He said. "This whole hunting gig, it's strictly volunteer. And we're never in one place long enough to have a job, usually not more than a couple of days. The car needs gas, and parts. We need food and lodging, weapons, gear. We fill out the applications, not our fault if they send us cards."

John had to laugh a bit. Dean was right, which meant he'd been right a long time ago. Expenses had to be made somehow, right?

"Hey remember when we got that American Express card? The one with an obscene limit?" Sam said as he started dusting the room.

"Oh yeah." He looked at John. "How do you think the car got rebuilt after Sammy let a truck hit us?"

"I didn't---"

"I'm joking!" Dean said, with his hands up.

"Okay, fine, anything else I should know?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you're officially missing. You were under an alias when you died, so we don't have to worry about that." Dean said with a shrug. "Oh, I'm wanted by the feds for a murder. Shape shifter decided to wear me for a while."

"I'm not wanted for anything." Sam said. "Not even credit card fraud."

Dean laughed. "You broke out of jail in Baltimore and you still aren't wanted for anything." He shook his head "What can I say, Sammy no one notices you. It's the hair. They think you're a girl. Check and see if there is a Samantha Winchester wanted for anything. I bet there is."

"People notice." Sam said. "I just don't go out of my way to get arrested or make a nuisance of my self."

"Not make a –" Now Dean was really laughing. "Dude you are a walking nuisance."

"Jerk." Sam said as he headed for one of the bedroom doors to toss his bag inside.

"Freak." Dean countered choosing the room next to Sam's.

"Boys, that's enough." John said and the two younger men looked at each other and grinned a little before saying in unison "Yes Sir" then going into their rooms to unpack.

John shook his head and took his bag to his room. By default, as he had let the boys choose first. He sat on the bed and opened up the journal. His journal he had swiped from Dean's bag. To fill in the blanks. He kept coming back to one particular photo, his wedding photo. He was ridiculously young and clean shaved, she was a blonde angel who had somehow ended up with him. He remembered that day, and that night, and the week after. There were just some things he wouldn't share with his sons, and making love to their mother was one of them. So he said he didn't remember her yet.

He did, just not beyond that. "I know, I know." He said to the photo. Worn from handling, lots of handling. Probably in situations like this, when he was alone in a hotel room and just wanted a connection, however tenuous, to some part of him that was still filled with light. "I screwed them up bad. I'm sorry, Mary. Gonna try to fix that now. We'll see how it goes." He sighed and tucked the photo back into the journal securely and shoved it within a pile of clothes in a drawer. He felt the need to unpack. Because that was normal. Unpacking was normal. People unpacked all the time. So he unpacked.

Didn't take long, he didn't have much. He didn't need much. He went to the window and opened it, bracing his arms on the top frame and just looking out at the ocean. These were good times. He knew that. Good memories he was making, that all three of them were making. And he knew now how important memories were. He remembered waking up without them, not even knowing his own name. Memories, good and bad and neutral, were precious.

The room filled with ghosts. Not real ones, just the kind that flittered through a man's mind as he leaned his forehead against the glass. Kids playing, a woman laughing, a woman screaming, kids crying. Kids silent. One towheaded boy with eyes turning more serious and wise by the day. One dark haired boy whose eyes were often wide.

He remembered more than he let on. But he'd never let Sammy or Dean know what he knew. About Sammy. He'd set them on this path, and nothing he said would take them off it. Nothing he did. All he could do was try to fill in the potholes before they ran over them. And the truth about Sammy was one big damned pothole.

But he was his son. John's son. Genetically, physically, in every way that ever could matter, he was John's son. And right now Sam was sure whatever walls John had were demolished. They weren't. John was making an effort to keep them down, keep them low. Give his boys a real father for once in their lives. It was too late to read them bedtime stories and teach them how to ride bikes, but he was still their father. Nothing on the road could change that.

Dean couldn't remember being happier. Oh maybe a rare day or two when growing up that his dad had made special arrangements to be with them. Hunting trips that had more to do with venison than demon teaching him to work, take care of the car but those were Dad and Dean times. Sam even though he had been there had been separate. Mostly because those things just weren't Sam. As much as Dean hated to admit it the hunt wasn't Sam either. But it might be easier to let him go now that his father was back. Now that he wouldn't be alone.

This vacation though, this was family time. This was the real deal. Something he had been wanting since he was 4 although there was still a hole where their mom used to be, it wasn't as big now that John wasn't trying to fall into it. He unpacked. He told himself it was to take inventory, but it was mostly because they never unpacked. Never knew when they were going to have to run. But this time he was sure that they were staying put for a few days. This was down time this was safe time.

Not that he took that for granted, as he lined the window ledges with salt and brick dust.

He stepped back out into the living room, and continued to lay the lines of protection. "So what's first on the agenda?" He called out.

"Food." Sam said as he came out of his own room.

"Do you ever stop eating?" Dean asked, teasing mostly.

"What can I say? I'm a growing boy"

"You grow anymore and we're gonna have to cut you off at the knees to fit you in my car."

"Nah sunroof." Sam said with a grin.

"Like Hell!"

John chuckled as he came out of his room, in clothes he hadn't been driving all day in. It was a luxury, clean, fresh clothes. He liked it. So he was going to take advantage of it. "No sun roof. No cutting your brother off at the knees. He'll just have to scrunch, or stay in the backseat." He said.

"And no Hooters." Sam said.

"I didn't even bring it up. You are such a misogynistic, chauvinistic pervert. No wonder I get laid more than you do." Dean said.

John made a show of looking at the ceiling. "Too much information." He grumbled. "Come on, this place has a restaurant. Let's go spend Mr. Jackson's money." He said, taking out his own wallet to make sure he had the credit card. "Sam, where are the rest of my IDs?" He asked, assuming Sam had taken them to avoid questions from John. And he was right.

"In the glove compartment." He said.

"Hope you plan to give them back. Neither of you can pass for my age. Yet." John said. He saw Dean head into John's room. "Already did it." And Dean gave him a surprised look at that. "Some things, once you remember them, you don't easily forget again." He said with a wry grin. "Come on, let's go feed Sammy."

"Sammy is the name of a chubby twelve year old." Sam said.

"I cut your umbilical cord. I can call you anything I want." John said as he held the door open and made a gesture for them to head down to the restaurant.

The restaurant was quiet, but there were people there. Which meant there were people for other people to pay attention to, and they could just be. Which they did as they ordered their food.

"Okay food then beach. " Dean said with a nod. "I think I saw them setting up a bonfire down there tonight which means party which means girls"

"Which means someone's boyfriend knocking on your head sometime about three in the morning." Sam interjected. "Thank god you have a separate room."

"Hey! I do, don't I?" He said with a grin.

John merely raised an eyebrow. "No there are things I just do not need to hear in the night."

"Sex on the beach."

"Better be a drink." John said. "Or something I never hear about." He laughed. "I don't share my sex life with you don't need to hear about yours."

"You have a sex life?" Sam asked.

"You remember your sex life?" Dean asked.

"No more talk about sex." John said with a laugh."You boys go down to the beach and have a good time. I just don't need to hear about it."

"I'll leave that to Dean." Sam said.

"Oh come on Sammy you can window shop." Dean suggested.

"Window shop?" John asked with a faint laugh.

"Yeah looking without the intent of taking it home."

"He keeps calling me the girl, but he knows girl terms." Sam said with a laugh.

"Hey, I had a relationship. Once. I picked up some of the terms. Just some of them flow better in conversation." Dean said.

"Whatever you say, Dean." Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

"You going to be all right?" Dean asked John.

"I'm a grown man. Older than both of you. Come to think of it, I'm old enough to be your father." He said with humor in his dark eyes. "Go on, go have some fun. Vacation remember?"

"I remember." Sam said with a laugh as he and Dean got up and headed to the beach. Even if he wasn't going to pick up a random girl, he still could have fun.

John watched them go with a small, fond smile on his face before finishing his dinner. Oblivious

to shadows on the wall watching him, watching his sons.

Sam followed Dean down to the shore. It was a nice beach. The view was spectacular. He was still partial to the west coast, and it was strange not to see the setting sun in the distance. It made it feel surreal some how. Almost like dream in some strange way even though he knew things were as they should be.

He felt safe leaving John alone to entertain himself. His fathers memory was still cheese cloth, but he knew how to take care of himself. That wasn't gone. Dean however, had never figured out that he needed taking care of. Not even by himself, if he wasn't actively hunting something. Even then Sam suspected he went through the motions of self preservation because they had been hardwired in by John not out of any real concern on his part.

"So where to first?" He asked his brother.

"Obviously the fire. I can already see some dancing and drinking. We're on vacation,

right? That's what you keep telling me anyway. Means even you have to loosen up and live a little." Dean said with a chuckle. His brother had never been a care free person. Wore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dean did also, he just didn't let it show.

But vacation was vacation, right?

Sam smiled. "Yeah. It's a vacation." He said as he started to walk toward the bonfire. "You ever think about calling Cassie?" He asked, knowing how his brother felt about her. All the dreams about Jess he missed the comfort she could give and wished that Dean could have that in his life. Might make it easier to keep going with the life they led.

"No." Dean said. "Why would I? Sure she looks like she can handle this, but she can't. Or she wouldn't have had that fit in the first place." He pointed out. "I don't know, it's probably best anyway. Make her mom happy, get a boyfriend who, I don't know, gets paid and shit like that."

"Have you ever given consideration to what makes you happy?" Sam asked his brother. He figured he already knew the answer. Dean didn't know how to take care of himself or make himself happy. He was too busy trying to please and take care of others. He couldn't help but think about where Dean might go to escape in his mind, where he would feel secure and happy and safe to weather out a storm. That dream was still affecting him and he just couldn't shake it.

"Sure." Dean said. "Brew, broads and rock and roll." He said with a cocky grin. "My car. Seriously making a dent in the demon population. You and Dad. What else does a guy need? And don't start with that whole relationship crap, tried that, remember? Didn't end too well. You know, you could invite Sarah down if you're all up on someone getting into some version of a relationship for a few days..."

"I'm not ready for another relationship." Sam said honestly. "Kind of afraid of winding up like Dad that way but there it is." He shrugged. "And I don't mean what makes you smile for a minute there has to be something you want out of life other than " he grinned a little, "spreading the Winchester seed as far across America as the drunken bimbo population will allow, and scattering rock salt."

"Hey, they're not all drunken." Dean said with a laugh. "What's with the heart to heart, or attempt at it? Remember? Vacation?" Dean didn't know what he wanted out of life. He lived moment to moment and hung onto each moment as hard as he could. Looking beyond that, he never did. Didn't seem worth it, when he could die at any moment. Or those around him could. Had already happened, after all. Hard to plan with his family.

"I don't know." Sam said honestly. "Guess I just got caught up in that dream last night. It's nothing. So  which one of them is going to take you home tonight?" He asked indicating the girls around the bonfire.

"That would be the one in the blue bikini." Dean said, slapping Sam on the back. "The one in the red was eyeing you when we started walking up. Come on, live a little. Only live once, unless you're Dad, so take the bull by the horns and just enjoy the ride."

Sam smiled, and motioned for his brother to lead the way. He would go along. He'd pretend to drink as heavily as his brother, he would laugh at jokes and flirt with girls. But he was there for one reason. To make sure Dean was safe. He was being hunted by a cult, so Sam kept his eye on the people around his brother. Easily done while pretending to have fun, pretending so well that he almost believed it.

Dean lost himself in the party. He felt like any other normal vacationer who had stumbled upon a party on the beach. Carefree, on vacation and just having fun. As if what had forced him onto this vacation had never happened, as if the bruises were faded into nothingness, the injuries hidden under his clothes and under his skin had never happened.

He nearly believed it. Nearly convinced himself of it. That's why he partied as hard as he did when he got the chance, because he could convince himself of that for just a little while.

And on the other hand, maybe he was a hunter through and through. Because wasn't cruising for girls nothing more than hunting of a different sort, wasn't it?

Sam watched as his brother worked the crowd and impressed. He figured his brother could have succeeded at anything he wanted to do in life. He was so adept at putting on the masks, working the con. Whether it was convincing someone he was a repairman or a federal agent or making a girl think that he was actually interested in something more than her body for a night's comfort.

He sat down on a log near the bon fire, and drank a little of his beer as his eyes scanned the crowd. Keep your eyes open when they cant she had said.

Dean worked the crowd, seeming like a normal person on vacation for a night of fun. All his bruises were faded, and his hair did indeed cover the stitches Sam had put in. It was a good night for him, where he was just, for a little while, letting go of everything around him, all the stress and problems. Just for a little while. Disappearing with a blonde behind some dunes for a few hours of just pure, mind blowing relaxation.

Sam hung back, not following his brother over the dunes, but always aware of where he was and who might be getting close to them. He chatted up the brunette in the red bikini, smiling and laughing with her, even making a little physical contact with her as he kept watch, but made his excuses as he saw his brother returning. They had just driven in from Texas that morning and he was exhausted. He did promise to see her the following night. He was allowed to have a little fun after all. It wasn't disloyal. Not really.

No matter what it felt like.

No matter what she was going to tell him in his dreams.

Dean was grinning. It had been good, and no strings. Hell, the blonde was looking just for a warm body for a little while, so it wasn't really 'using,' unless they were using each other. Which was all right.

"Come on, Sam." Dean said with a laugh. "Let's head back before Dad summons hounds to track us down. Cool with it or not, he's still Dad."

Sam said good bye once more to the brunette. "See I made plans to see her tomorrow. I'm having fun, although you look like you went three rounds with a vacuum cleaner hose there." He said indicating a hickey on his brother's neck.

"The vacuum cleaner's name is Rebecca by the way. And she loves just the idea of my car." Dean said with a chuckle, rubbing at the spot. Oh it would be vivid the next day, he could tell. "And three sounds about right. So plans? Like clear the room and convince Dad to leave to, I don't know, go to a gun show or something, plans? Or the 'maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow in a nice public place' plans?"

The shadows of night were long, and some were longer than others as they hiked back up to the hotel, some moving with them, mistily along the night air, moving like fog coming in from the sea. Nearly transparent, and nearly invisible, but there, if you were looking for it. If you knew to look for it. If you were expecting it.

Sam felt a chill settle over him as they walked but he said nothing to his brother, figuring it was just the cold air from the water."More 'I'll talk to you tomorrow in a nice public place' plans. You do remember what happened with the last girl that was interested in me right?" He said with a faint grin. Meg had been possessed by The Demon. Had been his daughter if what the demon said was to be believed. "Carefree is not the same as careless." He said as he unlocked the door and found the rooms empty.

He frowned a little. The snarky little voice in his mind nagging at him with thoughts of his father getting his memory back completely and taking off again. Remembering what it was that drove him away in the first place. But again he said nothing. "So, you meeting Rebecca tomorrow or moving on to the next interested party?" He asked forcing a smile. Then relaxing into it as the door opened and John entered the room.

"Hey." He said. "You boys have a good time?" John asked, although he knew they had. He had been watching.

"I had a great time." Dean said with a smirk. "Sam here, he had an all right time."

"I had a good time." Sam said defensively. "Just because I don't feel the need to drop my pants..."

"All right." John said, holding up his hands. They were bordering on the too much

information line again. "Looks like it was good for you two to get out."

"Where'd you go?" Sam asked.

"I just took a walk." John said. Like he'd tell them he'd followed them and made sure they stayed out of trouble.

"I would claim the shower first but I think Dean needs it more than me. I don't want to think about sand in " He paused then. "You know what I'm gonna hit the showers." Sam said giving Dean a grin as he left the room.

John chuckled softly and went to take a seat. "You boys get enough to eat tonight? Or should we see what room service is like around here?"

"Definitely see what the room service is like here." Dean said, kicking off his boots (which were untied still) and grabbing the room service menu as he sat down on the couch. "Pizza and nachos...that sounds good." He handed the menu to his dad who looked it over.

"Sounds good to me." Dean grabbed the phone and ordered.

"Sam, hurry up." Dean said. He did have sand in some...well...scratchy places.

Sam laughed softly, remembering the itching powder incident clearly, and figured this was a fair pay back. And the fun part was it was Deans own fault. Now the cold water left when Sam was done was all his own doing. It would start a war but that was okay. So long as Sam safe guarded his shampoo he should be fine.

He came out of the bath room a few minutes later wrapped in a towel. "So what did you

guys decide on about food?" he asked.

Dean shook his head at Sam. "I can't believe you used all the hot water." He said as he got up. "This is war." He announced as he went into the shower. Then again, a cold shower wouldn't be such a bad thing. But Sam would still NOT get away with it.

John chuckled as he handed the menu to Sam. "You're in trouble now. And seeing as you're both adults, I'm under no obligation to protect one from the other. That could be construed as favoritism, right?" He said. "Pizza, nacho, beer and soda. Your average nutritionally balanced snack."

Sam grinned. "It's okay. I can take care of myself now. I've learned to check the shampoo before I use it too." He said with a laugh. "Ash is coming up with a program that will dissect a cipher into possible components. Might help us sort that thing out. "

"I've been watching your brother, nothing strange has appeared on his clothing or skin." John said. "Though I'll be watching that hickey now." He had to laugh now.

"Everything is fine with me, no more sigils on me or anything. But I am keeping an eye on Dean." T hey only had a vague idea of the preparation the cult had put Dean through, and it was too easy to imagine any number of surprises just waiting.

"YeahI can't imagine that it's over though. It might be as far as it affects you, but not Dean." He said and sighed. "And Missouri said there were two demons in our lives now it's not over. He won't talk about what happened either. So even if it were over, it wouldn't really be over."

"Remember that knock he got on the head. He might not remember everything clearly." John pointed out. "And there was a lot of...pain...involved," something that bothered John greatly still, especially when Dean would still guard a tender spot, "and that can interfere with memory also."

Dean came out clad in a towel. "Okay, I'm back. Going to continue to talk about me?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "you're free to join in if you want." He said looking over at his brother with a grin. "Dad was saying you were dropped on your head or something."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Dean said with a laugh. "Because I know for fact you were dropped on your head twice. I did it myself." On accident of course, because he was five years old, but still. Sam had been dropped on his head. "I think it caused that swelling on top your shoulders...oh sorry. That's just your oversized head."

"My head is not over sized." He said "You just have a pin head to compare it to is all" It was easy to fall back into teenaged banter. Its what it felt like, both of them being there with their father. It was also a good cover for the concern he felt seeing the bruises that covered his brothers body. They were turning a greenish shade and fading now, although some of them were still an ugly blackish purple. He could just imagine the story he made up for the girl he had back on the dunes.

"I dropped you both." John said with a shrug. "Your mother was convinced I'd make you both irreversibly brain damaged before either of you were a month old. I assured her that Winchester heads were far too hard to be insulted by such a slight thing." He said with a chuckle. "You both turned out fine, or at least aren't mental midgets," he said with a chuckle, "so I was obviously right."

Most parents think their children are brilliant. John did. And they were in different ways. Sam was the academic. It wasn't easy to get a full ride to Stanford based on your brain power alone. Dean was the street smart one. Which was probably a good part of the reason he was still alive. Put them together and they were most likely unbeatable.

He liked to think he could take credit for that. At least some.

Sam laughed at that, grinning over at Dean, then his father "Dropped on my head repeatedly, and I'm still smarter than you." He teased getting up to answer the door. "Oh no, you two stay put. Wouldn't want you to drop the pizza."

Sam looked through the peep hole before opening the door. "Wow that smells good." He said and made casual conversation with the delivery boy as they sorted out money, and good nights. He set it down on the table in the kitchenette where he also had set up his computer, then got the beer from the fridge. "Come and get it." He said as he sat down and opened up his computer.

Ash was back on line, and had some information for him.

"Thought this wasn't a working vacation?" Dean said as he saw Ash instant message Sam. Ash had a distinctive way of talking that carried over into his online language. He shook his head as he grabbed a few slices of pizza and a beer, adding a handful of nachos to his plate as well.

"It's not." John said, exchanging a look with Sam. "He's just following up on old things. While Ash has the initiative and time."

Sam nodded and ate his pizza in between typing to Ash.

DrBadAss: florida? i never get a vac. just me and this room, my mad scientist lounge.

Samwise21: It's good here. Having a ball, parties on the beach. What do you have for me?

DrBadAss: you know its going to come right after you guys again. never seen targets like the ones you three wear. ever thought about parlaying it into some sort of marketing deal? never know what the world wants.

Samwise21: Ash...

DrBadAss: yeah yeah. moving on. so I was looking up, and it is two fallen after you two. we knew of the first one, and let me tell you, ellen's been all antsy since you called. anywhee, gonna have to go mojo catholic for this one.

Samwise21: Makes sense, Catholicism has had the best record against Fallen. Not that that's saying much.

DrBadAss: to each their own, man. anyway, got a hold of this really old copy of rituale romanum

Samwise21: We have a copy.

DrBadAss: not this version you don't. this one is straight from the secret archives. based more on the african rite than a bunch of eunuchs in robes.

---DrBadAss would like to send a file. Press CTRL+Y to accept, CTRL+N to decline---

---You are downloading _BadAss Exorcisms_ from DrBadAss. Download time is approximately 1 minute 37 seconds depending on connection time. ---

DrBadAss: gonna find a whole bunch of helpful things in here.

Samwise21: Thanks, Ash. I owe you.

DrBadAss: i know. so i was looking along the waterways, and it doesn't have much to do with it.

Samwise21: What do you mean?

DrBadAss: i mean he's a freaking fallen, dude. he doesn't need waterways. it was just a nice little roadmap for you guys to follow to get deano into position.

Samwise21: We figured that part out.

---You have downloaded _Badass Exorcisms_ ---

DrBadAss: but did you know what he wants?

Samwise21: That's why I'm talking to you.

DrBadAss: so you do know

Samwise21: No, I don't. I'm hoping you'll tell me

DrBadAss: oh yeah. right. okay. so you've got one after you, right? turns out the one after dean is this huge like enemy of the one after you. major comp between the two, so old that we can't even find out why they're all rumbling and shit. so one wants you, the other one decides he wants in on it cause can't let his nemesis have all the glory right...because what do fallen want?

Samwise21: They want to take over Heaven.

DrBadAss: hell yeah! after all, why set your goals small, right? dream big and large my man! and with all the times your brother has refused to die, proves he's a fairly hardy specimen.

Samwise21: For possession.

DrBadAss: yup. so good luck with that. the file should have some useful things. added an addendum to it on substitutions you can use for different things. well, gotta go.

Sam sat back and exhaled he opened the file. Dean hadn't been reading over his shoulder, which he was glad of.

"Samwise? Dude you're such a geek." Dean said from across the room.

"Jess gave it to me." He said as he scanned the document. He scribbled out several symbols on a piece of paper and turned the computer around for John to look at while he figured out the best way to lay out the cipher.

"What?" Dean asked, frowning now. But not as much as his father.

Rebecca and Terri walked back toward their hotel comparing notes on the brothers.

"I don't know" Terri said "He's really sweet, and very cute, but I don't think I'm gonna get past first base with him"

"Well that sucks" Rebecca said "His brother struck a home run first time at bat. Maybe he's adopted"

Terri laughed then shuddered. "Did you feel that?" she asked.

"Feel what?"

"Nothing" She said and unlocked the door to their room "you probably want the tub first "

"Hell yeah. The only bad thing about sex on the beach is sand where sand was never meant to be "

"Okay.. over share" Terri said as she went to sprawl over the bed "If the other one doesn't show more promise I'm so going to ditch him" she said as the bathroom door closed and latched.

Rebecca started the shower first, and got in to rinse the bulk of the sand from her body and out of the tub before plugging it and running a bath. She stretched out and closed her eyes, enjoying the hot water.

She didn't see the shadows as they crept under the door, and across the floor toward the tub. She lay peacefully dosing as it moved up the side of the tub and into the water, turning it inky black. She slid beneath the surface, eyes still closed.

She began to struggle under the water, thrashing wildly as the water slowly became clear once more.

"Becca? You alright?" Terri called, trying the door, but it was locked.

Rebecca sat up, eyes opening wide, glowing with a greenish fire "Never better" She said.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N This is a much shorter chapter than the others but it seemed a good place to cut it. we really appreciate the feed back we have been getting, consider this a shameless request for more. Let us know what you like and what you don't. And always… THANKS FOR READING!!

Again these are not my toys, I'm just playing with them.

Dean was lying on his stomach, in his boxers, his head on his folded arms. And he was shaking his head.

"You two really need to redefine vacation." He grumbled for not the first time.

"Quiet." John said as he took one of the papers from Sam again to look at it again as he carefully drew on his son's back with a black sharpie. "Ash says this will do it?" He asked Sam.

Sam nodded and drew on his own side. "According to the PDF file I have."

"PD what?" John asked.

"Techno talk."

"Ah."

"Whatever." Dean said. "If I wanted a tattoo, I would have gotten one a while ago."

"Stop moving." Sam said as he sat back. They had to let the ink set. Couldn't afford so much as a smudge. John recapped his marker.

"Believe me, this isn't my idea of fun." John said. "But it's necessary."

"The chances of a big bad being after me is actually pretty small, you know that, right?" Dean said with a chuckle. "I'm the wall between the two of you and big bads. Big bads slam against me, they don't come after me."

"Just humor us." Sam said.

"If they don't come after you, we wouldn't have had to pull you off an altar. It's this sort of thinking that gets you into trouble, Dean. You know better than that." John told him forcefully.

"Besides." Sam said. "Chicks think weird tattoos are hot… although you probably would want a better artist than Dad if you go that route." He teased.

"What?" Dean asked, not having even considered that girls might see it. "What have you guys drawn all over me any way?"

"It's a cipher, one that will keep the big bads from doing anything to you. Meaning we can actually relax a little and have a vacation." Sam pointed out. "And I can get some sleep. " They still hadn't told Dean everything. John and Sam both thought it best that way. Some things you just didn't need to know about all at once. Being pawns on a demonic chess board, and slated for possession…well Dean was anyway… ranked pretty high amongst things not to tell someone while in the midst of recovery.

"Great." Dean said. "There goes working on my tan. What with you guys having used me as doodle paper."

"You'll do fine." John said, slapping Dean on the shoulder, meaning he could get up. Which he did and went straight into the bathroom.

"This is the freakiest thing I've ever seen." Dean said despairingly. "It's not even tribal cool..."

"Well, it'll work." Sam said, laughing as he folded up the papers carefully. In case they had to touch Dean up. "So no scrubbing."

"Yeah, you're not the one who's been scribbled on." Dean grumbled as he got dressed. He didn't get all the fuss. He wasn't the one that was supposed to be fussed over. He was the self reliant, independent one who could take care of himself.

Sam leaned back in his chair and looked over at his father. Their dark eyes mirroring each other's concern. John however was worried about both of his sons. He had always known the yellow eyed demon was after Sammy. That wasn't news, although both of his boys caught in the crossfire of warring demons was enough to turn a man's hair white.

"You look like bookends." Dean said as he came back in the room and flopped down on the couch picking up the remote for the TV.

A pretty reporter was walking in front of a motel, one of the doors cordoned off with police tape. "While the identities of the young women staying in this hotel room are being with held from the public, sources tell us that this is one of the most gruesome crime scenes they have ever seen.-"

"Vacation, remember." Sam said as he went to the TV and changed the channel there.

"I'm not the one having trouble remembering that." Dean pointed out.

"Hey, I'm trying to keep you safe."

"And I appreciate that. Total waste of time that could be spent getting a little nookie, but I appreciate it."

"There's more to life than sex." Sam said with a shake of his head.

"Not really." Dean said. "But you hold onto that thought. And turn the channel back."

"Dean, vacation."

"I think that's our hotel." Dean protested. "And if this is supposed to be crawling with cops, I think I should know. Unlike some people, I'm among America 's most wanted."

"Why do you say that like it's a GOOD thing?" Sam said, turning the channel back.

Dean shrugged. Mostly it was because he could either find it humorous, and a point of recognition, or he could sit back and worry about when the cops were going to bang on the door and take him away… again. He knew which he preferred.

"This just in." The reporter continued. "24 year old Theresa Carpenter was found dead on the scene, her roommate no where to be found." The screen was filled with the face of a pretty brunette, and Sam sank onto the sofa.

"Coincidences can happen on vacation… right?" He asked although he knew the answer to that. It was possible that the girl he had been chatting up had been murdered by a psycho freak who had nothing to do with either of them. Any number of things could have happened that had nothing to do with them, but exactly how likely was that? Had he gotten another girl killed just by talking to her?

Dean paled. "Son of a bitch." He swore. He looked at his father and brother. "This means my fling has either been made off with by a psycho killer, or she is the psycho killer." He said and got up, pulling on his boots and tying them quickly.

"Where are you going?" John demanded.

"I'm going to the scene." Dean said.

"Place is crawling with cops." Sam protested.

"Yeah, like we've never done that before." Dean scoffed. "You guys can stay behind if you want."

"Dean---!" John said and swore under his breath as his oldest son walked out of the room. He shook his head and followed after him, Sam on his heels.

Dean came to the barricade and flashed a fake ID, identifying him as a profiler, on vacation, and willing to lend a hand. Luckily he got a rookie cop, who let him under the tape.

He walked around the room, it looked like a massacre. Theresa's body was still covered with a sheet, her blood soaking through. It was the most vicious crime scene he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot. He circled the room and went into the bathroom, the only clean place. Except for a smudge of blood by the window. He took a piece of toilet paper and wrapped it around his finger, running it over the sill. Not surprisingly, it came back yellow.

"Sulfur..." He muttered beneath his breath. Then he walked back out into the bedroom and lifted the sheet off Theresa, who had fallen between the two beds. There had been some sort of fight, or she had been tossed around pretty good, the room was a mess. Chairs splintered, table overturned, the phone ripped out of the wall. He looked at her face, frozen in terror as her eyes stared sightlessly up at him, her body torn apart. He cleared his throat and walked out, the rookie cop stopping him.

"So what do you think?" He asked.

Dean shrugged. "Never seen anything like this." He lied. "Obviously someone strong. Possibly with a weapon. And rage. Lots and lots of rage." And he walked away, toward his father and brother. "Sulfur." Was all he said as he headed back to the room.

"Okay, so we move on." Sam said as he started toward his room to pack.

"No way." Dean protested. "I'm not gonna let this demon put me on the run. He doesn't get to win… besides… I gotta make sure Rebecca is still alive."

"Boys." John said firmly, getting their attention. "Pack up. Vacation's over. We'll look into things then move on." Sam started to protest, and John gave him a look. "Don't start Sam, You know the drill, now let's get a move on. We're burning moonlight."

Sam stalked off to his room and started packing. The worst of it was that John and Dean were right. They needed to investigate because no one else could. But damn it, when did they get to protect one of their own for a change? If it was him in danger Dean and John both would have been packing the Impala and dragging him out the door for safer pastures. But not for Dean. No, for Dean they had to stick it out and investigate something they couldn't kill anyway. The colt was gone. It had disappeared in the hospital.

He was the last one done, but he met them out in the main room. "Okay, where to first?"

"Back to the beach. Party is still goin' strong. Maybe Rebecca is down there having a good ole time with no clue her roommate is toast." Dean said. He wondered if he weren't getting too jaded. When his first thought was that now he would never get Sam to ask another girl out.

"I'll scout out the hotel, see if I can find some inside information." John said, wise enough to know he wouldn't fit in a beach party.

"Some vacation." Sam grumbled. How were they going to keep Dean off the radar if they were in a full fledged demon investigation? He wished, just once, his brother would put himself first. That John would put Dean first. Just once. And that that just once was right now.

"Come on, Sammy. Isn't that bad." Dean said with a grin. "Rebecca may have no idea. She might need a shoulder to cry on you know."

"Dean..." Sam said, not believing his brother was that...but one look at Dean's face showed he was joking. And serious about the investigation as they made their way out to the beach. The party was still raging, more driftwood added to the bonfire, and the music was even more boisterous, even if a little too 'contemporary' for Dean's taste.

"I don't see her yet." Dean said, scanning the crowd.

"Maybe she's not here." Sam said.

"We gotta split up. Meet back at the bonfire every fifteen." The party was too large. "Call me if you have any problems." Then Dean disappeared into the undulating bodies dancing wildly beneath the stars.

"Dean!" Sam said. "Dad is going to KILL me." He grumbled as he started off in the opposite direction. He walked along the shore, keeping an eye peeled for Rebecca until he saw a figure sitting on a dune and headed over there. It was Rebecca, crying, covered in blood. She shrieked as Sam apprached.

"Get away from me!" She screamed, but no one would hear her over the music.

"Shhh..." Sam said with his hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you." And he pulled out his cell phone. "Dean? I'm over on the south beach." He said, raising his voice so his brother would hear him. "I found her." Then he hung up, knowing Dean would head that way. "Rebecca, I'm Sam. Dean's brother. You know, the guy you...um...met...earlier. What happened? Who's blood is that?" He walked slowly closer to Rebecca, not wanting to startle her.

But she looked at him with clear green eyes. Eyes that were a little...too...green.

"I killed her." She said with a perky smile. "She screamed so loud, but no one heard. Because I wouldn't let them hear." She laughed. "Rebecca is inside, and she's horrified. She'll probably kill herself after this, poor girl."

"Why did you kill her?" Sam asked, horrified as he dialed his phone again. Dean needed to hurry up.

"To flush you out." She said with her ever present smile as she opened her mouth.

Sam backpedaled as he demon exploded from Rebecca and seemed to swirl around him. He fought against it, trying to find a way to prevent it from getting inside him. But he was failing. He sank to his knees and screamed as the monster filled him, forcing him backwards into his own mind, into that dark place Jessica had taken him to in his dream.

Dean crested the dune just as the demon entered his brother. "No!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, stumbling down the dune in his haste to reach his brother . This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. NO! The demon was supposed to be after him, he should have known better. It was just another trap to get to Sammy and he had set it up to be sprung himself. Should have listened to him and gotten the hell out of dodge. Should have listened to the frigging psychic. But no, Dean had to hunt… Dean had to prove that it couldn't beat him, and now it had taken his brother. "Sammy..." He said looking at his brother.

"Aw, you really do care, how touching." The demon said, using Sam's voice, but everything else was completely wrong. The way he moved, the way he spoke. "And you're right, this really is your fault. It was supposed to be you. But no… you had to go and let them save you, let them protect you, and you didn't even think to protect your own brother. Not like you can blame Daddy for all of this. He's off his game. You knew that. Hell that's why you went along with this family bonding shit. It was all about you though. "

"Let my brother go. I'll give you what you want. Anything you want… just let him go." Dean said, Damn it Sammy, fight him. You fight him.

"Can't… not yet anyway… not with that cipher scribbled on your back. Have to wait for that to fade. But that's alright, Sam's a decent ride even if a little rough. But don't you worry, I'll have him broken soon enough. They always give up after a while. After all where are they gonna run to?" He looked over at Rebecca. "Isn't that right blondie?"

He looked at Rebecca, who had probably just bought herself a nice one way ticket to the looney bin. No way could she reconcile being possessed and killing her roommate with what she considered reality. Most people couldn't. And he couldn't worry about Rebecca right now, she was out of his reach and beyond his help at this point.

But the demon wearing his brother, he could deal with. He would have to deal with in fact. "Let him go." Dean repeated again. "And I'll get this thing off my back." He knew it had been a bad idea to get this drawn on him.

The demon laughed, with Sam's laugh. "Sorry. This is even better. I get you to do what I want, and I get to cause trouble. Such an innocent face, don't you think? No one suspects him of doing anything wrong." He said. "I thought you'd thank me. Who you call the yellow eyed demon is right behind me. Now he can't get Sam. Isn't that something? Maybe you did save your brother after all." He mocked Dean.

"Sorry Sammy." Dean said meaning many things in that statement, but mostly sorry for the black eye he was about to give him, and he swung out, connecting with his brother's face. "You're making a big mistake. You have no idea what you are dealing with here." All it would take was a devil's trap and the damned ritual that Sammy had downloaded from Ash and this sorry ass bitch was history.

The demon growled in absolute fury. The sound was alien and gut wrenching coming from Sammy's throat. "Get that thing off your back." He said, unable to retaliate against Dean so long as that protective sigil was in place.

"Ooh ooh." Dean said smiling a little, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those were cold, and dark with anger. "What, you can't bat me around like a rag doll? Sorry. It doesn't come off until you get the hell out of my brother. "

Sam's brown eyes flashed brilliant green and he turned his attention to Rebecca, who was whimpering in the sand, staring at the two brothers one moment then screaming in agony the next, as her flesh burst into flames. "The sad truth is Dean, you don't know who **you're** dealing with. Azazel has his plans and schemes, but over all he isn't half the bastard you think he is. Me on the other hand… I'll burn this place to the ground one innocent at a time if you cross me again." He turned to walk away, calmly, casually, adopting Sam's long legged coltish gate.

"Sam!" Dean said as the demon wearing his brother quickened his pace but still managed to look calm and casual. When he was just barely in earshot, he turned around to face Dean.

"When that's off your back...come find me." He said with a wave and disappeared back into the party.

Dean ran back to the hotel where John was heading back to their room to finish loading up the Impala. "What is it?" He asked, stopping at his son's face.

"That demon after me...green eyes..." Dean said, out of breath. He'd done a full out sprint back to the hotel. And from the dune, it wasn't a short run. "It has Sam."

"What?" John barely kept from roaring. "How did he get your brother?" He barely stopped from the recrimations. Like 'where were you?' 'Why didn't you stop it?' He was slowly learning from his past, but it was still a learning curve.

"Because of this thing!" Dean said, pointing to his back. "He can't touch me, can't even shove me. Because of this. So he used Sam as bait and insurance policy. I get this thing off my back, he'll release Sam." One way or another. Because he wanted Dean.

"Absolutely not." John said, tossing a bag to Dean. "We'll think of another way, but I'm not giving you up to save Sam, anymore than I would give up Sam to save you. Don't ask me to."

"I'm not asking." Dean said, face set in determination, an expression John was sure he'd seen in the mirror once or twice. "Not your choice."

"He's a demon, Sam, what makes you think that he won't just take you over and make you watch as you kill your own brother? Or have another demon waiting to possess you or him?" John pointed out. "This is our one advantage, you are NOT going to give that up. I am not going to lose either of you much less both of you."

"Fine, I'll do it myself." He said tossing the bag aside and stalking toward the bathroom, he had to do this. He couldn't let the demon have his brother. Sam was too gentle inside, he wouldn't survive the things that monster would do while he was along for the ride. " And you won't lose us… you'll get Sam the hell out of there when that thing takes me instead and you and Sam will get me back."

"Dean, listen to yourself. If you honestly believed there was a chance of that happening you wouldn't be doing this." John said as he grabbed his son's arm. "But the truth is, they were preparing you for this… they were wearing you down and we don't know how much of what they were doing succeeded. You don't even remember everything they did. If he takes you, there may not be any coming back. We have a better chance at saving Sam."

"And that's what I'm going to do." Dean said, wrenching his arm from John's hand and stripping off his shirt. He found one of those back washer things and poured soap on it, and alcohol, and a bottle of nail polish remover that came with the bathroom and started scrubbing at his back.

"Dean!" John said, taking the brush from him. "Stop and think. I will not lose both of you. Because if you let the demon take you, Sam's going straight after you and it will be a never ending cycle until one or both of you are dead."

"Look, this is happening." Dean said taking the brush back. Burned like fire on his back, and it was only making a small dent in the sharpie scribbles. "We've each got demons after us. Right now the yellow eyed one can't get Sam. And he doesn't want me. So we've bought Sam a little time until we figure out how to send Azazel back to hell."

"Azazel?" John said.

"The yellow eyed one's name. Now we just have to find out the green eyed one's name and we're good to go. So why don't you get on that..."

"Excuse me? Are you trying to give ME an order?" John asked.

"No sir." Dean said. "Just, you might not remember it, but I've spent my whole life taking care of Sammy, watching out for Sammy, making sure Sammy was okay while you went off on the hunt. This is my job. And I don't plan to fail. You do your job, I do mine."

"And I am telling you, that there is no way this is going to free Sammy." He said as he took the brush and helped his son remove the mark. "At least sit down and look over the file Sam downloaded. There might be another form of protection we can use for you. You are not going in there completely vulnerable."

Dean frowned. "I'll look." He conceded, mostly to get his father to back off. He didn't think there would be anything that wouldn't create more trouble.

"Dean, some of those marks they put on you before… they were breaking down barriers… I think they were designed to break down your soul. If you insist on doing this we have to find a way to protect that, so that you don't cease to be." John couldn't believe that he was helping Dean do this. It was insanity. He was going to sacrifice both of his sons in one night. This was absolute insanity. "If your soul is destroyed, it's just a few short rituals to turn your body into a permanent haven for the demon… do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yeah, I understand." Dean said. "Which is why we need to move." He said. "Because I was prepared for this, obviously my body can handle it. Maybe Sam's can't. The more time we waste, the longer he's in Sammy and the more likely it is that there's nothing left to save. Obviously I can survive a possession by this thing. I don't know if Sam can." Or if Sam would survive even if his body did. That's why he wanted to move. Move now and get this over with.

"Dean, I did not come back from the dead just to watch you two die." John said.

"No? Do you know why you came back? I sure don't. Had to be more than just bait, or the demon would have taken you back already." Dean said. "So until you can tell me why you're back, we better not talk about that. That kind of guessing is dangerous. Maybe you're here to bury us, burn and salt us like we did you. Maybe it's more punishment for me and Sam, just have a taste of what it could have been like, knowing that it was all going to go to shit again anyway. Or maybe it was one just big coincidence. All I know is I don't know why you're here. Glad you are, don't get me wrong. But I can't change my plans because of you."

"Plans?" John asked.

Dean smirked. "Come on, Dad. You raised a warrior who would kill himself to keep his brother safe. You really think there's another ending to this?"

John took a deep breath. "Sam is going to be fine." He said reluctantly. "He and all the children like him are… special in more ways than you know." The illusion was shattered. It was time to reveal some of the things he did remember. "So you have time to tell me the details of this plan, and it better involve more than sacrificing yourself, because there is a big difference between killing to keep him safe and laying down and dying."

"So you do remember." Dean said shaking his head. "Fine. Then you remember what you told me before you up and finished your own self sacrifice. Save him or kill him. Don't think I don't know why I'm still alive. Because I can save him and you can't. You knew that then, you know that now. I'm not going to lay down and die, but if it comes down to either me or Sam...I'm choosing Sam. And you better do the same."

"You're alive because you are my son and I..." He frowned. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I put a heavy weight on your shoulders that I should never had done, but you were the only one I could trust to take care of Sammy. Azazel is building an army… the kids like Sam. I suspect there is more that I can't remember. But if you give yourself over for him… it could destroy any chance Sammy has of coming through this on the right side of the line. And that's if the demon has any intention of keeping his word."

"Demon doesn't have a choice. He can't possess me without leaving Sam. And if Sam is fine, you'll be there. If he isn't, this whole thing is moot anyway." Dean said. His back burned like fire, but the cipher was off. There were red marks outlining where it had been, but they would fade soon. "Maybe that's why you're back." He said, standing up and putting his hand on his father's shoulder, as he had done for years. When he shouldn't have had to, he had. And now he was doing it again, eyes oddly peaceful. "To take care of Sammy when it's my turn."

John glared at his son, desperately searching for something…anything… to make his son see reason. "You say he couldn't touch you because of the cipher?" John asked as he took out the sharpie once more. "Then I guess you need to return the favor and draw it on me. Because when he takes you over… Sam isn't going to have the heart to do what will need to be done if we can't save you." John's eyes revealed everything he was feeling in that moment. The anguish inside that was worse than any torture he had ever endured. The certain knowledge that his son was dying had been enough to drive him to sacrifice everything, his chance at destroying the demon, his life. But the knowledge that he could possibly have to destroy his own son threatened to drive him mad. But he knew he could never allow any one else to do it. He didn't know that he could do it. He opened the paper that Sam had so carefully folded and started to remove his shirt. "But I swear of you come through this … we are tattooing this damned thing on your hide."

"Yeah, okay." Dean said with a laugh as he unfolded the paper and started drawing the cipher on his father. It took longer, because he was one person. And when he had it drawn on himself, he had both John and Sam doing it. He finished and capped the marker. "Okay, let's go get Sammy."

He trusted his father to finish it any way he had to. If that meant that Dean couldn't be brought back, he would rather be dead. And John knew that. So he was going into this with a clear conscience and a clear heart. Everyone always talked about Sam's destiny, but he'd thought of his own enough to know this was it. He'd go out defending his brother, one way or another.

John rose slowly, and put his shirt back on, pulling the flannel over it. He looked over his shoulder at his son. It was hard to see the man before him. A man who thought his whole reason for living was to sacrifice himself. John knew it was his own fault. It was his doing that the boy who had brought laughter and so much energy into his and Mary's life had grown into the man before him, instead of the man he should have become. All of this was his fault, and he hated himself for it as much now as he had the night that made the deal with the demon.

"Help me get all this out to the car." He said past the lump in his throat.

Missouri had sat up bolt right in her bed the moment the demon had entered Sam's body. "Oh baby, I am so sorry." She said to no one that would hear and got out of bed. She started a pot of coffee and got dressed, then took the already packed suitcase out of the closet and set it by the back door. "We are going to have to have a very long talk… if we can get you back… " she filled the thermos with coffee and picked up the suitcase, heading out to her car. "This is not the way I wanted to see New Orleans." She muttered.

They weren't there yet, but when they were she would be waiting for them.

Ellen answered the phone. "Harvelle's." And she had to pull a stool over as Dean, who was loading up the car. Dean told her everything and she paled. She sat on the stool. "Oh sweetie..." She said and closed her eyes. "I'll get Ash on it. We'll see what we can come up with from our end."

"Thanks." Dean said and hung up his cellphone and looked at his father. "All right. We're good to go." He said.

John looked at him for a long moment, his dark eyes hooded and solemn. "Not quite." He said and sighed at Dean's questioning look. Then punched his son. In the jaw, hard. Sending him against the Impala. "Sorry, I am so sorry." He said as he picked his son up and put him in the passenger seat, handcuffing him to the door. "But you're not sacrificing yourself. I can't allow that."

John got into the car and drove. He didn't look back. It hurt to abandon Sam that way, but he also knew that the demon inside him wanted Dean. He would come for him. And that would give him more time to prepare a trap of his own. Dean wasn't thinking, he was feeling. He would hate him when he came around, but John could handle that. He had handled Sam's hatred, even if the boy denied it, it was there. He could handle Dean's… he hoped.

Tamiel paused, looking up as he heard the sound of the Impala driving away. He raised one dark eyebrow, and excused himself from the woman he had been chatting up. Apparently young women liked the fluffy puppy look. Another perk to keeping the body he had. It would just be harder to rid it of that pesky soul, and sadly this body was easier to kill than the other one. But it would do. So long as he possessed it, Azazel did not.

He strode to the parking lot and scanned it, eyes falling upon a motorcycle. An eldritch glimmer in his eyes and it started for him, purring like a kitten.

**Your brother just abandoned you.** He thought. **How ironic is that, aren't you usually the one doing the abandoning?**

"Shut up." Sam yelled into the darkness. "Dad's protecting him from you… and that's how I want it." Sam wanted nothing more than for Dean to be on the opposite side of the world from him right now.

**Sure it is.** Tamiel laughed as he drove down the highway. **You like hanging out in the dark, waiting for your soul to go mad with the isolation. Waiting to give up and fade to nothing.**

"Better me than him." Sam called out, his tone almost matter of fact. As though it were a given. He did see the demon's point however… If he didn't do something quick, he was going to be mad as a hatter before it was all done. **Great… Alice In Wonderland images… good going Sammy.** He thought to himself. **Well… let's get out of this fucking rabbit hole.** He said as he started searching in his mind in earnest. Wishing he could just sleep and dream his way through the ordeal… "Dreams." He said and smiled… if you could call it that when you had no real body. At least not one that you controlled.

John looked over at his son, the bruise showing up lividly on his face as he drove. North. Not toward New Orleans. He'd intercepted the call from Ash, telling Ash that Dean was in the bathroom. And if the demon was going to go anywhere, he'd go to New Orleans to recharge. Tap into all that energy and power there before moving forward.

Of course with his luck the demon was going to Atlanta. Which he'd drive through. But he was betting on New Orleans. A nice center point of energy. Enough ruins to hide in, big enough to blend until he was ready...it was when the demon was ready that John worried. It might still come after Dean. And he'd lose both of his sons in an instant.

Just when they were starting to feel like a family. Right when he was finally starting to be a real father to them.

"Ash, keep searching." Ellen said, leaning over Ash as he worked his magic on the computer.

"Ellen, I'm telling you...if it's on the net I'll find it. Just gotta give me time." He was scouring the web for Azazel. Real information from professionals, not just the anecdotal from religious freaks. But the Vatican wasn't exactly easy to crack into. He would have had much more fun cracking into Homeland Security.

"We don't have time. It's got a hold of Sam and it wants Dean. And their father is right in the middle of it."

"Thought you didn't like the old man?"

"It'll tear those boys apart, or what's left of them, if they have to watch him die again."

**Where do you think you're going, Sammy?** Tamiel asked, as he continued down the freeway, well on his way to New Orleans.

"Someplace you can't reach. And the name is Sam." He corrected and finally saw the lights in the distance. He knew it wasn't a real building, anymore than the hands he looked down at were real. But it was safety…it was home… and it was Jess. That was why Missouri had told him to pay attention to all of his dreams. He got to the building and ran inside, up the stairs and into the apartment he had shared with Jessica.

He could see the darkness gathering around the building, threatening to force its way in, but he found the salt in the kitchen and began to salt all the entrances, windows and doors, the smallest possible entry was given a line of salt as a barrier.

**Do you really think that is going to work?** It asked him, and Sam could feel it pressing in on the walls, heard them creak but that was all the further it could go.

"I don't know… but it's a beginning."

Dean woke with a groan and tried to lift his hand to his face. "What the…?" He asked wincing at the pain in his head, and then spotting the cuffs holding him to the car door. "Son of a bitch." He swore at his father. "Where the hell are we? And you had better say we are chasing the demon." He had never used that tone with his father before, it felt alien, unnatural.

John looked at Dean and kept driving. "North. Have a friend left in South Carolina. You'll stay there and I'll go after Sam." He said evenly, as if discussing the weather. Discussing something not important to anything relevant. He winced a bit as Dean started jerking on the cuffs.

"You son of a bitch." Dean said. "You have no right to treat me like a child now. After everything."

"You are a child. You are MY child." John said. "And I'm not risking both of you. I'll get Sam, and then you two can hate me together. But you're going to hate me in this life, not the next."

"This isn't your choice!" Dean shouted, kicking at the floorboards in frustration. "This is my choice! And I made it. What gives you the right to kidnap me, handcuff me and drag me in the opposite direction?"

"I'm your father." John said. "I haven't been for a long time, piss ass time to start, but that's the way it goes.

"Whose in South Carolina ? Don't think for a minute I can't get away from who ever it is… " he said, hating that he had to do it this way. "Damn it Dad, why are you doing this? You know as well as I do that the only way to get Sam back is to trade me for him. "

"I'm not trading either of my sons for another." John said firmly. "And stop kicking the car." An automatic reproval. "There is not going to be a deal where I trade you for Sam, or you trade yourself for Sam. Or anything like that. All I've ever tried to do is keep you boys as safe as I could when you were children. Dragging you across the country on different hunts because I didn't trust anyone else to understand what you were up against. Now it's finally here, and I've got the good luck to be back in time for this. I will not lose my sons to any son of a bitch demon who thinks he can best a Winchester. There will be another way. And I will find it. And don't think I won't have you restrained in Carolina until this is finished."

Dean put his head against the seat. "You picked a helluva time to start being a traditional father." As much as was possible in the entirely untraditional circumstances.

"I know." John said with a quirk of a smile. He bet Ward Cleaver never had to deal with demons coming after Beaver or Wally. Or the possibility that he would have to kill Beaver to keep Wally safe. Because if he was too late, if Sam was too far gone, he would have to be destroyed to stop him from coming after Dean. If the situation was reversed, he would have made the same decision. Let one son go so as not to lose them both.

Even if it hardly made him father of the year.

"Okay" Dean said staring out the window instead of looking at his father "What's you're plan?" He was furious. But he knew he wasn't as angry as that demon was going to be. Unfortunately that Demon has his brother.

Dean was laying on his stomach, in his boxers, his head on his folded arms. And he was shaking his head.

"You two really need to redefine vacation." He grumbled for not the first time.

"Quiet." John said as he took one of the papers from Sam again to look at it again as he carefully drew on his son's back with a black sharpie. "Ash says this will do it?" He asked Sam.

Sam nodded and drew on his own side. "According to the PDF file I have."

"PD what?" John asked.

"Techno talk."

"Ah."

"Whatever." Dean said. "If I wanted a tattoo, I would have gotten one a while ago."

"Stop moving." Sam said as he sat back. They had to let the ink set. Couldn't afford so much as a smudge. John recapped his marker.

"Believe me, this isn't my idea of fun." John said. "But it's necessary."

"The chances of a big bad being after me is actually pretty small, you know that, right?" Dean said with a chuckle. "I'm the wall between the two of you and big bads. Big bads slam against me, they don't come after me."

"Just humor us." Sam said.

"If they don't come after you, we wouldn't have had to pull you off an altar. It's this sort of thinking that gets you into trouble, Dean. You know better than that." John told him forcefully.

"Oh come on Dad" Dean said "That was a fluke"

"Besides." Sam said. "Chicks think weird tattoos are hot… although you probably would want a better artist than Dad if you go that route." He teased.

"What?" Dean asked, not having even considered that girls might see it. "What have you guys drawn all over me any way?"

"It's a cipher, one that will keep the big bads from doing anything to you. Meaning we can actually relax a little and have a vacation." Sam pointed out. "And I can get some sleep. " They still hadn't told Dean everything. John and Sam both thought it best that way. Some things you just didn't need to know about all at once. Being pawns on a demonic chess board, and slated for possession…well Dean was anyway… ranked pretty high amongst things not to tell someone while in the midst of recovery.

"Great." Dean said. "There goes working on my tan. What with you guys having used me as doodle paper."

"You'll do fine." John said, slapping Dean on the shoulder, meaning he could get up. Which he did and went straight into the bathroom.

"This is the freakiest thing I've ever seen." Dean said despairingly. "It's not even tribal cool..."

"Well, it'll work." Sam said, laughing as he folded up the papers carefully. In case they had to touch Dean up. "So no scrubbing."

"Yeah, you're not the one who's been scribbled on." Dean grumbled as he got dressed. He didn't get all the fuss. He wasn't the one that was supposed to be fussed over. He was the self reliant, independent one who could take care of himself.

Sam leaned back in his chair and looked over at his father. Their dark eyes mirroring each other's concern. John however was worried about both of his sons. He had always known the yellow eyed demon was after Sammy. That wasn't news, although both of his boys caught in the crossfire of warring demons was enough to turn a man's hair white.

"You look like bookends." Dean said as he came back in the room and flopped down on the couch picking up the remote for the TV.

A pretty reporter was walking in front of a motel, one of the doors cordoned off with police tape. "While the identities of the young women staying in this hotel room are being with held from the public, sources tell us that this is one of the most gruesome crime scenes they have ever seen.-"

"Vacation, remember." Sam said as he went to the TV and changed the channel there.

"I'm not the one having trouble remembering that." Dean pointed out.

"Hey, I'm trying to keep you safe."

"And I appreciate that. Total waste of time that could be spent getting a little nookie, but I appreciate it."

"There's more to life than sex." Sam said with a shake of his head.

"Not really." Dean said. "But you hold onto that thought. And turn the channel back."

"Dean, vacation."

"I think that's our hotel." Dean protested. "And if this is supposed to be crawling with cops, I think I should know. Unlike some people, I'm among America's most wanted."

"Why do you say that like it's a GOOD thing?" Sam said, turning the channel back.

Dean shrugged. Mostly it was because he could either find it humorous, and a point of recognition, or he could sit back and worry about when the cops were going to bang on the door and take him away… again. He knew which he preferred.

"This just in." The reporter continued. "24 year old Theresa Carpenter was found dead on the scene, her roommate no where to be found." The screen was filled with the face of a pretty brunette, and Sam sank onto the sofa.

"Coincidences can happen on vacation… right?" He asked although he knew the answer to that. It was possible that the girl he had been chatting up had been murdered by a psycho freak that had nothing to do with either of them. Any number of things could have happened that had nothing to do with them, but exactly how likely was that? Had he gotten another girl killed just by talking to her?

Dean paled. "Son of a bitch." He swore. He looked at his father and brother. "This means my fling has either been made off with by a psycho killer, or she is the psycho killer." He said and got up, pulling on his boots and tying them quickly.

"Where are you going?" John demanded.

"I'm going to the scene." Dean said.

"Place is crawling with cops." Sam protested.

"Yeah, like we've never done that before." Dean scoffed. "You guys can stay behind if you want."

"Dean---!" John said and swore under his breath as his oldest son walked out of the room. He shook his head and followed after him, Sam on his heels.

Dean came to the barricade and flashed a fake ID, identifying him as a profiler, on vacation, and willing to lend a hand. Luckily he got a rookie cop, who let him under the tape.

He walked around the room, it looked like a massacre. Theresa's body was still covered with a sheet, her blood soaking through. It was the most vicious crime scene he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot. He circled the room and went into the bathroom, the only clean place. Except for a smudge of blood by the window. He took a piece of toilet paper and wrapped it around his finger, running it over the sill. Not surprisingly, it came back yellow.

"Sulfur..." He muttered beneath his breath. Then he walked back out into the bedroom and lifted the sheet off Theresa, who had fallen between the two beds. There had been some sort of fight, or she had been tossed around pretty good, the room was a mess. Chairs splintered, table overturned, the phone ripped out of the wall. He looked at her face, frozen in terror as her eyes stared sightlessly up at him, her body torn apart. He cleared his throat and walked out, the rookie cop stopping him.

"So what do you think?" He asked.

Dean shrugged. "Never seen anything like this." He lied. "Obviously someone strong. Possibly with a weapon. And rage. Lots and lots of rage." And he walked away, toward his father and brother. "Sulfur." Was all he said as he headed back to the room.

"Okay, so we move on." Sam said as he started toward his room to pack.

"No way." Dean protested. "I'm not gonna let this demon put me on the run. He doesn't get to win… besides… I gotta make sure Rebecca is still alive."

"Boys." John said firmly, getting their attention. "Pack up. Vacation's over. We'll look into things then move on." Sam started to protest, and John gave him a look. "Don't start Sam, You know the drill, now let's get a move on. We're burning moonlight."

Sam stalked off to his room and started packing. The worst of it was that John and Dean were right. They needed to investigate because no one else could. But damn it, when did they get to protect one of their own for a change? If it was him in danger Dean and John both would have been packing the Impala and dragging him out the door for safer pastures. But not for Dean. No, for Dean they had to stick it out and investigate something they couldn't kill anyway. The colt was gone. It had disappeared in the hospital.

He was the last one done, but he met them out in the main room. "Okay, where to first?"

"Back to the beach. Party is still goin' strong. Maybe Rebecca is down there having a good ole time with no clue her roommate is toast." Dean said. He wondered if he weren't getting too jaded. When his first thought was that now he would never get Sam to ask another girl out.

"I'll scout out the hotel, see if I can find some inside information." John said, wise enough to know he wouldn't fit in a beach party.

"Some vacation." Sam grumbled. How were they going to keep Dean off the radar if they were in a full fledged demon investigation? He wished, just once, his brother would put himself first. That John would put Dean first. Just once. And that that just once was right now.

"Come on, Sammy. Isn't that bad." Dean said with a grin. "Rebecca may have no idea. She might need a shoulder to cry on you know."

"Dean..." Sam said, not believing his brother was that...but one look at Dean's face showed he was joking. And serious about the investigation as they made their way out to the beach. The party was still raging, more driftwood added to the bonfire, and the music was even more boisterous, even if a little too 'contemporary' for Dean's taste.

"I don't see her yet." Dean said, scanning the crowd.

"Maybe she's not here." Sam said.

"We gotta split up. Meet back at the bonfire every fifteen." The party was too large. "Call me if you have any problems." Then Dean disappeared into the undulating bodies dancing wildly beneath the stars.

"Dean!" Sam said. "Dad is going to KILL me." He grumbled as he started off in the opposite direction. He walked along the shore, keeping an eye peeled for Rebecca until he saw a figure sitting on a dune and headed over there. It was Rebecca, crying, covered in blood. She shrieked as Sam approached.

"Get away from me!" She screamed, but no one would hear her over the music.

"Shhh..." Sam said with his hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you." And he pulled out his cell phone. "Dean? I'm over on the south beach." He said, raising his voice so his brother would hear him. "I found her." Then he hung up, knowing Dean would head that way. "Rebecca, I'm Sam. Dean's brother. You know, the guy you...um...met...earlier. What happened? Whose blood is that?" He walked slowly closer to Rebecca, not wanting to startle her.

But she looked at him with clear green eyes. Eyes that were a little...too...green.

"I killed her." She said with a perky smile. "She screamed so loud, but no one heard. Because I wouldn't let them hear." She laughed. "Rebecca is inside, and she's horrified. She'll probably kill herself after this, poor girl."

"Why did you kill her?" Sam asked, horrified as he dialed his phone again. Dean needed to hurry up.

"To flush you out." She said with her ever present smile as she opened her mouth.

Sam backpedaled as the demon exploded from Rebecca and seemed to swirl around him. He fought against it, trying to find a way to prevent it from getting inside him. But he was failing. He sank to his knees and screamed as the monster filled him, forcing him backwards into his own mind, into that dark place Jessica had taken him to in his dream.

Dean crested the dune just as the demon entered his brother. "No!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, stumbling down the dune in his haste to reach his brother . This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. NO! The demon was supposed to be after him, he should have known better. It was just another trap to get to Sammy and he had set it up to be sprung himself. Should have listened to him and gotten the hell out of dodge. Should have listened to the frigging psychic. But no, Dean had to hunt… Dean had to prove that it couldn't beat him, and now it had taken his brother. "Sammy..." He said looking at his brother.

"Aw, you really do care, how touching." The demon said, using Sam's voice, but everything else was completely wrong. The way he moved, the way he spoke. "And you're right, this really is your fault. It was supposed to be you. But no… you had to go and let them save you, let them protect you, and you didn't even think to protect your own brother. Not like you can blame Daddy for all of this. He's off his game. You knew that. Hell that's why you went along with this family bonding shit. It was all about you though. "

"Let my brother go. I'll give you what you want. Anything you want… just let him go." Dean said, Damn it Sammy, fight him. You fight him.

"Can't… not yet anyway… not with that cipher scribbled on your back. Have to wait for that to fade. But that's alright, Sam's a decent ride even if a little rough. But don't you worry, I'll have him broken soon enough. They always give up after a while. After all where are they gonna run to?" He looked over at Rebecca. "Isn't that right blondie?"

He looked at Rebecca, who had probably just bought herself a nice one way ticket to the loony bin. No way could she reconcile being possessed and killing her roommate with what she considered reality. Most people couldn't. And he couldn't worry about Rebecca right now, she was out of his reach and beyond his help at this point.

But the demon wearing his brother, he could deal with. He would have to deal with in fact. "Let him go." Dean repeated again. "And I'll get this thing off my back." He knew it had been a bad idea to get this drawn on him.

The demon laughed, with Sam's laugh. "Sorry. This is even better. I get you to do what I want, and I get to cause trouble. Such an innocent face, don't you think? No one suspects him of doing anything wrong." He said. "I thought you'd thank me. Who you call the yellow eyed demon is right behind me. Now he can't get Sam. Isn't that something? Maybe you did save your brother after all." He mocked Dean.

"Sorry Sammy." Dean said meaning many things in that statement, but mostly sorry for the black eye he was about to give him, and he swung out, connecting with his brother's face. "You're making a big mistake. You have no idea what you are dealing with here." All it would take was a devil's trap and the damned ritual that Sammy had downloaded from Ash and this sorry ass bitch was history.

The demon growled in absolute fury. The sound was alien and gut wrenching coming from Sammy's throat. "Get that thing off your back." He said, unable to retaliate against Dean so long as that protective sigil was in place.

"Ooh ooh." Dean said smiling a little, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those were cold, and dark with anger. "What, you can't bat me around like a rag doll? Sorry. It doesn't come off until you get the hell out of my brother. "

Sam's brown eyes flashed brilliant green and he turned his attention to Rebecca, who was whimpering in the sand, staring at the two brothers one moment then screaming in agony the next, as her flesh burst into flames. "The sad truth is Dean, you don't know who **you're** dealing with. Azazel has his plans and schemes, but over all he isn't half the bastard you think he is. Me on the other hand… I'll burn this place to the ground one innocent at a time if you cross me again." He turned to walk away, calmly, casually, adopting Sam's long legged coltish gate.

"Sam!" Dean said as the demon wearing his brother quickened his pace but still managed to look calm and casual. When he was just barely in earshot, he turned around to face Dean.

"When that's off your back...come find me." He said with a wave and disappeared back into the party.

Dean ran back to the hotel where John was heading back to their room to finish loading up the Impala. "What is it?" He asked, stopping at his son's face.

"That demon after me...green eyes..." Dean said, out of breath. He'd done a full out sprint back to the hotel. And from the dune, it wasn't a short run. "It has Sam."

"What?" John barely kept from roaring. "How did he get your brother?" He barely stopped from the recrimations. Like 'where were you?' 'Why didn't you stop it?' He was slowly learning from his past, but it was still a learning curve.

"Because of this thing!" Dean said, pointing to his back. "He can't touch me, can't even shove me. Because of this. So he used Sam as bait and insurance policy. I get this thing off my back, he'll release Sam." One way or another. Because he wanted Dean.

"Absolutely not." John said, tossing a bag to Dean. "We'll think of another way, but I'm not giving you up to save Sam, anymore than I would give up Sam to save you. Don't ask me to."

"I'm not asking." Dean said, face set in determination, an expression John was sure he'd seen in the mirror once or twice. "Not your choice."

"He's a demon, Sam, what makes you think that he won't just take you over and make you watch as you kill your own brother? Or have another demon waiting to possess you or him?" John pointed out. "This is our one advantage, you are NOT going to give that up. I am not going to lose either of you much less both of you."

"Fine, I'll do it myself." He said tossing the bag aside and stalking toward the bathroom, he had to do this. He couldn't let the demon have his brother. Sam was too gentle inside, he wouldn't survive the things that monster would do while he was along for the ride. " And you won't lose us… you'll get Sam the hell out of there when that thing takes me instead and you and Sam will get me back."

"Dean, listen to yourself. If you honestly believed there was a chance of that happening you wouldn't be doing this." John said as he grabbed his son's arm. "But the truth is, they were preparing you for this… they were wearing you down and we don't know how much of what they were doing succeeded. You don't even remember everything they did. If he takes you, there may not be any coming back. We have a better chance at saving Sam."

"And that's what I'm going to do." Dean said, wrenching his arm from John's hand and stripping off his shirt. He found one of those back washer things and poured soap on it, and alcohol, and a bottle of nail polish remover that came with the bathroom and started scrubbing at his back.

"Dean!" John said, taking the brush from him. "Stop and think. I will not lose both of you. Because if you let the demon take you, Sam's going straight after you and it will be a never ending cycle until one or both of you are dead."

"Look, this is happening." Dean said taking the brush back. Burned like fire on his back, and it was only making a small dent in the sharpie scribbles. "We've each got demons after us. Right now the yellow eyed one can't get Sam. And he doesn't want me. So we've bought Sam a little time until we figure out how to send Azazel back to hell."

"Azazel?" John said.

"The yellow eyed one's name. Now we just have to find out the green eyed one's name and we're good to go. So why don't you get on that..."

"Excuse me? Are you trying to give ME an order?" John asked.

"No sir." Dean said. "Just, you might not remember it, but I've spent my whole life taking care of Sammy, watching out for Sammy, making sure Sammy was okay while you went off on the hunt. This is my job. And I don't plan to fail. You do your job, I do mine."

"And I am telling you, that there is no way this is going to free Sammy." He said as he took the brush and helped his son remove the mark. "At least sit down and look over the file Sam downloaded. There might be another form of protection we can use for you. You are not going in there completely vulnerable."

Dean frowned. "I'll look." He conceded, mostly to get his father to back off. He didn't think there would be anything that wouldn't create more trouble.

"Dean, some of those marks they put on you before… they were breaking down barriers… I think they were designed to break down your soul. If you insist on doing this we have to find a way to protect that, so that you don't cease to be." John couldn't believe that he was helping Dean do this. It was insanity. He was going to sacrifice both of his sons in one night. This was absolute insanity. "If your soul is destroyed, it's just a few short rituals to turn your body into a permanent haven for the demon… do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yeah, I understand." Dean said. "Which is why we need to move." He said. "Because I was prepared for this, obviously my body can handle it. Maybe Sam's can't. The more time we waste, the longer he's in Sammy and the more likely it is that there's nothing left to save. Obviously I can survive a possession by this thing. I don't know if Sam can." Or if Sam would survive even if his body did. That's why he wanted to move. Move now and get this over with.

"Dean, I did not come back from the dead just to watch you two die." John said.

"No? Do you know why you came back? I sure don't. Had to be more than just bait, or the demon would have taken you back already." Dean said. "So until you can tell me why you're back, we better not talk about that. That kind of guessing is dangerous. Maybe you're here to bury us, burn and salt us like we did you. Maybe it's more punishment for me and Sam, just have a taste of what it could have been like, knowing that it was all going to go to shit again anyway. Or maybe it was one just big coincidence. All I know is I don't know why you're here. Glad you are, don't get me wrong. But I can't change my plans because of you."

"Plans?" John asked.

Dean smirked. "Come on, Dad. You raised a warrior who would kill himself to keep his brother safe. You really think there's another ending to this?"

John took a deep breath. "Sam is going to be fine." He said reluctantly. "He and all the children like him are… special in more ways than you know." The illusion was shattered. It was time to reveal some of the things he did remember. "So you have time to tell me the details of this plan, and it better involve more than sacrificing yourself, because there is a big difference between killing to keep him safe and laying down and dying."

"So you do remember." Dean said shaking his head. "Fine. Then you remember what you told me before you up and finished your own self sacrifice. Save him or kill him. Don't think I don't know why I'm still alive. Because I can save him and you can't. You knew that then, you know that now. I'm not going to lay down and die, but if it comes down to either me or Sam...I'm choosing Sam. And you better do the same."

"You're alive because you are my son and I..." He frowned. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I put a heavy weight on your shoulders that I should never had done, but you were the only one I could trust to take care of Sammy. Azazel is building an army… the kids like Sam. I suspect there is more that I can't remember. But if you give yourself over for him… it could destroy any chance Sammy has of coming through this on the right side of the line. And that's if the demon has any intention of keeping his word."

"Demon doesn't have a choice. He can't possess me without leaving Sam. And if Sam is fine, you'll be there. If he isn't, this whole thing is moot anyway." Dean said. His back burned like fire, but the cipher was off. There were red marks outlining where it had been, but they would fade soon. "Maybe that's why you're back." He said, standing up and putting his hand on his father's shoulder, as he had done for years. When he shouldn't have had to, he had. And now he was doing it again, eyes oddly peaceful. "To take care of Sammy when it's my turn."

John glared at his son, desperately searching for something…anything… to make his son see reason. "You say he couldn't touch you because of the cipher?" John asked as he took out the sharpie once more. "Then I guess you need to return the favor and draw it on me. Because when he takes you over… Sam isn't going to have the heart to do what will need to be done if we can't save you." John's eyes revealed everything he was feeling in that moment. The anguish inside that was worse than any torture he had ever endured. The certain knowledge that his son was dying had been enough to drive him to sacrifice everything, his chance at destroying the demon, his life. But the knowledge that he could possibly have to destroy his own son threatened to drive him mad. But he knew he could never allow any one else to do it. He didn't know that he could do it. He opened the paper that Sam had so carefully folded and started to remove his shirt. "But I swear of you come through this … we are tattooing this damned thing on your hide."

"Yeah, okay." Dean said with a laugh as he unfolded the paper and started drawing the cipher on his father. It took longer, because he was one person. And when he had it drawn on himself, he had both John and Sam doing it. He finished and capped the marker. "Okay, let's go get Sammy."

He trusted his father to finish it any way he had to. If that meant that Dean couldn't be brought back, he would rather be dead. And John knew that. So he was going into this with a clear conscience and a clear heart. Everyone always talked about Sam's destiny, but he'd thought of his own enough to know this was it. He'd go out defending his brother, one way or another.

John rose slowly, and put his shirt back on, pulling the flannel over it. He looked over his shoulder at his son. It was hard to see the man before him. A man who thought his whole reason for living was to sacrifice himself. John knew it was his own fault. It was his doing that the boy who had brought laughter and so much energy into his and Mary's life had grown into the man before him, instead of the man he should have become. All of this was his fault, and he hated himself for it as much now as he had the night that made the deal with the demon.

"Help me get all this out to the car." He said past the lump in his throat.

Missouri had sat up bolt right in her bed the moment the demon had entered Sam's body. "Oh baby, I am so sorry." She said to no one that would hear and got out of bed. She started a pot of coffee and got dressed, then took the already packed suitcase out of the closet and set it by the back door. "We are going to have to have a very long talk… if we can get you back… " she filled the thermos with coffee and picked up the suitcase, heading out to her car. "This is not the way I wanted to see New Orleans." She muttered.

They weren't there yet, but when they were she would be waiting for them.

Ellen answered the phone. "Harvelle's." And she had to pull a stool over as Dean, who was loading up the car, told her everything and she paled. She sat on the stool. "Oh sweetie..." She said and closed her eyes. "I'll get Ash on it. We'll see what we can come up with from our end."

"Thanks." Dean said and hung up his cell phone and looked at his father. "All right. We're good to go." He said.

John looked at him for a long moment, his dark eyes hooded and solemn. "Not quite." He said and sighed at Dean's questioning look. Then punched his son. In the jaw, hard. Sending him against the Impala. "Sorry, I am so sorry." He said as he picked his son up and put him in the passenger seat, handcuffing him to the door. "But you're not sacrificing yourself. I can't allow that."

John got into the car and drove. He didn't look back. It hurt to abandon Sam that way, but he also knew that the demon inside him wanted Dean. He would come for him. And that would give him more time to prepare a trap of his own. Dean wasn't thinking, he was feeling. He would hate him when he came around, but John could handle that. He had handled Sam's hatred, even if the boy denied it, it was there. He could handle Dean's… he hoped.

Tamiel paused, looking up as he heard the sound of the Impala driving away. He raised one dark eyebrow, and excused himself from the woman he had been chatting up. Apparently young women liked the fluffy puppy look. Another perk to keeping the body he had. It would just be harder to rid it of that pesky soul, and sadly this body was easier to kill than the other one. But it would do. So long as he possessed it, Azazel did not.

He strode to the parking lot and scanned it, eyes falling upon a motorcycle. An eldritch glimmer in his eyes and it started for him, purring like a kitten.

**Your brother just abandoned you.** He thought. **How ironic is that, aren't you usually the one doing the abandoning?**

"Shut up." Sam yelled into the darkness. "Dad's protecting him from you… and that's how I want it." Sam wanted nothing more than for Dean to be on the opposite side of the world from him right now.

**Sure it is.** Tamiel laughed as he drove down the highway. **You like hanging out in the dark, waiting for your soul to go mad with the isolation. Waiting to give up and fade to nothing.**

"Better me than him." Sam called out, his tone almost matter of fact. As though it were a given. He did see the demon's point however… If he didn't do something quick, he was going to be mad as a hatter before it was all done. **Great… Alice In Wonderland images… good going Sammy.** He thought to himself. **Well… let's get out of this fucking rabbit hole.** He said as he started searching in his mind in earnest. Wishing he could just sleep and dream his way through the ordeal… "Dreams." He said and smiled… if you could call it that when you had no real body. At least not one that you controlled.

John looked over at his son, the bruise showing up lividly on his face as he drove. North. Not toward New Orleans. He'd intercepted the call from Ash, telling Ash that Dean was in the bathroom. And if the demon was going to go anywhere, he'd go to New Orleans to recharge. Tap into all that energy and power there before moving forward.

Of course with his luck the demon was going to Atlanta. Which he'd drive through. But he was betting on New Orleans. A nice center point of energy. Enough ruins to hide in, big enough to blend until he was ready...it was when the demon was ready that John worried about. It might still come after Dean. And he'd lose both of his sons in an instant.

Just when they were starting to feel like a family. Right when he was finally starting to be a real father to them.

"Ash, keep searching." Ellen said, leaning over Ash as he worked his magic on the computer.

"Ellen, I'm telling you...if it's on the net I'll find it. Just gotta give me time." He was scouring the web for Azazel. Real information from professionals, not just the anecdotal from religious freaks. But the Vatican wasn't exactly easy to crack into. He would have had much more fun cracking into Homeland Security.

"We don't have time. It's got a hold of Sam and it wants Dean. And their father is right in the middle of it."

"Thought you didn't like the old man?"

"It'll tear those boys apart, or what's left of them, if they have to watch him die again."

**Where do you think you're going, Sammy?** Tamiel asked, as he continued down the freeway, well on his way to New Orleans.

"Someplace you can't reach. And the name is Sam." He corrected and finally saw the lights in the distance. He knew it wasn't a real building, anymore than the hands he looked down at were real. But it was safety…it was home… and it was Jess. That was why Missouri had told him to pay attention to all of his dreams. He got to the building and ran inside, up the stairs and into the apartment he had shared with Jessica.

He could see the darkness gathering around the building, threatening to force its way in, but he found the salt in the kitchen and began to salt all the entrances, windows and doors, the smallest possible entry was given a line of salt as a barrier.

**Do you really think that is going to work?** It asked him, and Sam could feel it pressing in on the walls, heard them creak but that was all the further it could go.

"I don't know… but it's a beginning."

Dean woke with a groan and tried to lift his hand to his face. "What the…?" He asked wincing at the pain in his head, and then spotting the cuffs holding him to the car door. "Son of a bitch." He swore at his father. "Where the hell are we? And you had better say we are chasing the demon." He had never used that tone with his father before, it felt alien, unnatural.

John looked at Dean and kept driving. "North. Have a friend left in South Carolina. You'll stay there and I'll go after Sam." He said evenly, as if discussing the weather. Discussing something not important to anything relevant. He winced a bit as Dean started jerking on the cuffs.

"You son of a bitch." Dean said. "You have no right to treat me like a child now. After everything."

"You are a child. You are MY child." John said. "And I'm not risking both of you. I'll get Sam, and then you two can hate me together. But you're going to hate me in this life, not the next."

"This isn't your choice!" Dean shouted, kicking at the floorboards in frustration. "This is my choice! And I made it. What gives you the right to kidnap me, handcuff me and drag me in the opposite direction?"

"I'm your father." John said. "I haven't been for a long time, piss ass time to start, but that's the way it goes.

"Who's in South Carolina? Don't think for a minute I can't get away from who ever it is… "He said, hating that he had to do it this way. "Damn it Dad, why are you doing this? You know as well as I do that the only way to get Sam back is to trade me for him. "

"I'm not trading either of my sons for another." John said firmly. "And stop kicking the car." An automatic reproval. "There is not going to be a deal where I trade you for Sam, or you trade yourself for Sam. Or anything like that. All I've ever tried to do is keep you boys as safe as I could when you were children. Dragging you across the country on different hunts because I didn't trust anyone else to understand what you were up against. Now it's finally here, and I've got the good luck to be back in time for this. I will not lose my sons to any son of a bitch demon who thinks he can best a Winchester. There will be another way. And I will find it. And don't think I won't have you restrained in Carolina until this is finished."

Dean put his head against the seat. "You picked a helluva time to start being a traditional father." As much as was possible in the entirely untraditional circumstances.

"I know." John said with a quirk of a smile. He bet Ward Cleaver never had to deal with demons coming after Beaver or Wally. Or the possibility that he would have to kill Beaver to keep Wally safe. Because if he was too late, if Sam was too far gone, he would have to be destroyed to stop him from coming after Dean. If the situation was reversed, he would have made the same decision. Let one son go so as not to lose them both.

Even if it hardly made him father of the year.


	5. Chapter 5

"I am sorry." John said as he secured Dean to the radiator of the shack. Dean hadn't said a word, but John had felt the anger burning out of those hazel eyes quite clearly. Anger. Guilt. Despair. It had been a long drive to say the least. He sighed as he looked at his son, who was just staring blankly out the window, jaw set in a hard edge. He knew Dean wouldn't say another word to him, and maybe that was for the best.

"All right." He said, straightening up. "Those should hold you until this is finished. And then Sam can come untie you." He shook his head, part of him wishing Dean would say something at least. "I'll bring him back, Dean." Then he walked out of the room before he changed his mind. If he was going to face a fallen, there would be no one he'd want at his side more than Dean, but that wasn't going to happen this time. Not this time, not with who the Fallen was wearing.

He looked at Tommy. "Let's go." He said. Tommy nodded and grabbed his gear. "Everything's set up?"

"Absolutely. In two days, if we're not back, my girlfriend will come untie him and let him loose." Tommy said. Though Tommy knew something John didn't. Tommy wasn't Tommy. Just another one of Azazel's children wearing Tommy. And the girlfriend wouldn't have to untie Dean. Someone else entirely would be.

But John nodded and they got back into the Impala to tear ass back to New Orleans.

Azazel waited until the Impala was out of sight, already on the interstate. Driving as fast and as far away as possible. Then Dean watched in horror as a black cloud started to seep through the windows. Frantically trying to get out of his bonds, away from it. Toward a weapon. Toward anywhere but here. But he was too tightly restrained as the cloud forced its way through his nose and mouth.

Dean coughed, choked, sputtered, but when he opened his eyes, they were yellow.

"What the hell is this? Possess Dean Winchester Day?" He demanded, his mind's eye taking on the demon, who was making himself quite at home. Azazel smirked at him.

"Believe me, it's not you I want. And I don't want to possess my Sam."

"He's not your Sam." Dean fired back, and Azazel waved it off.

"But I certainly don't want Tamiel inside him."

"Are you offering me a deal?"

"Absolutely not. Though I do have a history of making deals with you Winchesters, don't I?" Azazel said, laughing. "I'm going to wear you. I'm going to take on Tamiel and I'm going to get him out of Samuel. Whether or not you survive is of little concern to me."

"For once we agree on something, but if you don't get him out of MY Sam, I will find a way to kick your ass from the inside out, he wants me for a reason and I can just about guarantee it isn't my good looks. "

"" "" "" "" ""

Sam sank down on the sofa nodding to himself. He could do this. He could deal with being the demon's host so long as it kept him away from Dean. Tamiel… that was its name. Unfortunately he had no way of letting his father know that he was dealing with the arch demon of misery. He wasn't certain how he came to that knowledge, or how he suddenly knew that Azazel as the lord of the Nephilim… whatever that meant.

He tried his best to tune out the demon as he spoke to him. A demon could speak the truth but they could turn it into lies with incredible ease. The screams and cries around him were harder to tune out. He knew if he went to the windows he could see what was going on around him, as though he were looking through his own eyes, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. It was better not to know what his body was being used for. That could only lead to a serious case of regret for things he had no control over.

Tamiel drew strength from the suffering of others. Unfortunately Samuel wasn't play along as he should be. There should be fear, despair… anguish within. All he felt was a nervous sort of boredom. Instead he had to use those around him for his meal. The other one had such a capacity for sorrow, for rage… for survival. He could have satisfied Tamiel's hunger for years. This one couldn't satisfy the demonic equivalent of a supermodel. The feelings were there, but the walls around him were secure. Too secure. He suspected an outside influence there.

"" "" "" "" ""

He slipped easily out of the bonds. It would have taken Dean days, but Dean and Azazel together made short work of it.

"I cannot believe I'm working with a demon." Dean said, staying front and center. He wasn't giving the demon anymore than he could allow.

"You're not working with a demon. I've possessed you." Azazel reminded him and heard Dean scoff. Azazel laughed, deep and throatily, aloud. There was no one around, but Dean still told him to be quiet. No reason to act crazy after all until they got to Sam. He found a car, a beat up hunk of metal, but it would work as it started before he even got to it.

"S**o what's the plan?**" Dean asked, as they started down the road. "**And don't tell me to kick what's his name's ass and get him out of my brother. Details would be nice.**"

"Y**ou seem to be under the mistaken assumption that you are a participant here. You are merely transportation.**"

"**Bull shit, you had transportation when you got here. I'm here as body armor cause you think your buddy Tami won't hand you your ass while you're hiding it inside mine.**"

"That doesn't give you the right to have a running commentary."

"You know, I went through this whole long ritual to prepare me for your best friend there, and let me tell you. If you could shut me up, you would have already. So might as well start talking, cause you really don't want me to keep talking."

Azazel sighed, wondering the wisdom of this particular choice. He wasn't even out of South Carolina yet and he wanted to drive off a bridge. "I'm going to force him out of that particular body."

"So let me get this straight. You don't care if I live or die, and he doesn't care if Sam lives or dies...yet both of you expect each of us to survive for your own selfish reasons."

"I only need Samuel to survive. You can fall in a hopeless pile of shredded flesh and crushed bones for all I care."

"After you get Tami out of his body."

"Now you're catching on. Will you shut up now?"

"Absolutely not. It's a long drive and I have to entertain myself somehow."

"" "" "" "" ""

"Great news." Tamiel's voice boomed through the walls. "Your brother is coming. As is your father. I knew your father would, but I couldn't have anticipated this wrinkle."

Sam ignored him, reading a law book his mind's room had. Just to drown out the demon trying to invade his sanctum. Demons lied. Especially to get a rise out of you.

"Azazel has decided to take your brother for a ride. So I get to destroy an enemy, and you get to watch your brother die. Isn't that excellent news?"

Sam felt his chest clench at that thought then frowned. "You're not going to kill my brother. He's the one you want. You two are going to slug it out in bodies the other one wants in one piece. You're screwed. " He said then returned to reading. He couldn't believe he had actually intended to become a lawyer. This book was dry as hell. But it was perfect for the situation. It wasn't an emotional book at all, and it held his interest even though dry. Even though it was information he had buried in his subconscious to begin with.

Sam lay back on the sofa and propped his feet up. He was safe within his walls. At least the part of him that mattered was safe. So long as he didn't lose his soul, all would be well ultimately.

"I've waited eons for a suitable host." Tamiel said flippantly. "I can wait a few more

eons. But the chance to destroy an enemy...you'd like that too, wouldn't you? This is what killed your mother...your girlfriend...you've been on the hunt for this thing your whole life...in the grand scheme of it, your brother is just collateral damage."

The outside world was boring him as he waited. He couldn't call too much attention to himself, he wasn't strong enough. Not yet. He would be, but not yet. So he needed a rise out of Sam. All that internal rage and misery...he needed it like a man in the desert needed water.

"And he killed my father." Sam said in a bored tone. "I've had time to come to terms with it." He hadn't. He still felt Jessica's death so keenly that it ate at him when he let it. But he couldn't let it. He had seen his mother's spirit, he had to believe that Jessica was much the same, or gone on to someplace peaceful. He focused on the words in front of him muttering out loud what he was reading.

"Your father sacrificed himself for Dean. That's different. That's akin to a parent throwing himself in front of a bus to stop it from hitting their child. Trust me, your father hasn't known true pain until he's seen his two possessed sons thrashing each other. Then he'll have a choice. If he attempts to exorcise us, you'll both die from the injuries. I nearly want to clap with glee at this turn of events. We can turn this city upside down. Might not stop at the city. So much fun and chaos to be had, and you want to sit there reading a book as I use and abuse your body. Kill your father, kill your brother. Humans are such visual creatures. Your face will be the last thing they see. Marvelous."

"You don't know my dad." Sam said simply. And that was what his only hope hinged on. That John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with, even for fallen angels. If anyone could save them it would be John. "We always knew that one day we'd go down fighting. Hunters don't live to collect retirement."

Tamiel smiled. He could feel the worry. It wasn't misery, but it would do, as he pulled on that feeling, nearly sighing in contentment. "But fighting each other? And knowing they're dead and you couldn't stop me. Trapped in your own mind knowing your hands killed the only things you have left in the world. You're right, it'll be easy to come to terms with. You've been targeted by Azazel for a reason. The ability to be that monster with no feeling and no regrets. Though your brother would have lasted longer, you're a lot more effortless."

"I'm not a monster!" Sam yelled. "I will never be a monster. No matter what you do with my hands or any other part of me. I'm not some naïve co-ed. I'm not going to self destruct in here like Rebecca. I'm a Winchester . We don't give up." Sam didn't give up… Sam didn't let go of hope. He faced whatever was coming, always looking for a way out. Always believing that there would be an out. Dean refused to die. John just didn't stop. Not even death could stop his father apparently when he had a job to do. "You wanna piss me off and get some sort of cheap jollies go right ahead but it doesn't change jack shit. You are still screwed."

"How little you know. And here I thought your brother was the cocky one." Tamiel said with a laugh, just imagining what Dean was putting Azazel through right now. Dean had been prepared, he didn't need a room to hide in. Unfortunately they hadn't gotten to finish the ritual that would have made him a bit more malleable. So if there was one upside, it was that Azazel was not having the time of his immortal life with Dean.

"" "" "" "" ""

"And I remember when I was eleven..." Dean was saying, lying down with his hands clasped behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles. Azazel groaned. It had been a never ending monologue since the moment he possessed Dean Winchester. He was having trouble tuning him out, Dean had been prepared to be front and center in the mind, so that Tamiel could feed off his rage.

That's not what Azazel did, so it was annoying. Frustrating. And headache inducing.

"Shut up." The demon said. "Or I will make sure your father goes back to his grave a little early." He threatened. Dean didn't know about his father's friend after all… it might work, threats had been known to work in the past with others.

Dean laughed. "Please. The man is counting the hours until he dies again. Besides, if you could kill him, you would have done so a long time ago. The last time, he only died because he agreed to die. You are so not the hot shit you think you are. If you were, you wouldn't be basically shaking with fear and about to piss my pants over Tami-boy having Sam."

"Sam … is mine." Azazel said. "He was mine before he was born. It's not fear you are sensing. It's rage. You would do well not to have me turn it upon you."

"" "" "" "" ""

John sped toward his destination, literally. He barely spoke except to ask Tommy to double check the map. If he had, he might have noticed something was wrong with his friend. That something wasn't quite right with the way he looked at him, But John was single minded in his course. He had to get to Sam before it was too late. Before the demon managed to trigger something in him that would send him cascading toward evil.

He handed over the cell phone. "Call the road house and see what else they have come up with?"

"No." Tommy said. "Because you're not going to New Orleans ." He said and grabbed the wheel, forcing the car off the road, his eyes as black as night.

"Tommy! What the hell!" John yelled, trying to get control of the car as it veered off the road into a ditch, nearly on its side. John was thrown all over the car in the struggle and he pulled himself out through the window with a groan. Tommy was already out. "Tommy? Oh no..."

"You need to stay out of this." Tommy said. He couldn't hurt John. But he could cause things to cause damage. Like a car crash. "It's over for one of your boys, just accept it. You were granted a second chance for some reason unknown to us, but you're here. Do you really want to die so badly?"

"You're going to leave my sons alone." John growled.

"It's a long walk, John."

"Not for you." He said, having no intention of letting the demon get anywhere near his boys again. One less to face if he took care of it here. His hand slid into his jacket pocket, grasping the small bag he kept there. Salt. In the other side holy water. It was the holy water that he chose, twisting the lid off with the fingers of one hand before bringing it out and splashing it at Tommy's face.

Tommy screamed and brought his hands up to his face. John watched dispassionately. If he had to make a choice between a friend or his sons, his sons would win out every time. There was no choice. "Never for a moment think me and my boys are easy to kill. Or get off track." He said and kept spraying him with the holy water, chanting what he had memorized in Latin. Memorized far too long ago to even remember the first time he had ever done it, even if he had his full memory. Some things were just second nature, and it was inherent knowledge like this that John was counting on. He was betting his sons on it because he didn't have any other choice.

Tommy's head flung backward and he screamed as the demon escaped him with a howl of its own, being pulled back into hell where it belonged. The hunter fell to the ground. "John? John is that you?" He asked, his vision blurred by the holy water's effects when he was possessed.

"Yeah it's me. Tell me what happened. Who is back there with my son?" He asked worried for Dean, kicking himself for not being more careful with the boy. He reached down and helped Tommy up. "Get in." He said figuring he could drop the man off at a hospital on the way. Right now he had to get that car moving again.

"No one. Shelly's going to check on him when she gets back from her mom's." Tommy said, easing himself back into the Impala as John carefully maneuvered it out of the ditch. Took some doing, but she was back on the road. "That part's the truth. I wasn't...you know..." he couldn't say it. Possessed. "Until after you called."

"Good." John said. He couldn't turn back now anyway. Whatever was left of Sammy had to be saved. Had to be salvaged and freed. He wouldn't lose his youngest son, not after all this. He was counting on Dean's skills and temperment to keep him all right until John returned.

John drove to the nearest town and pulled into the emergency room parking lot. "I'm sorry about your eyes." He said as he helped him out. "I hope they heal."

"I'd rather be blind than a monster, John." He said honestly. "Let me know how your boys turn out." Tommy was handed over to the emergency room staff, and John ran back out the door. He couldn't waste anymore time than he already had. Once back on the road and moving at a good clip he picked up the cell phone and called the road house. "Tell me you have something new."

Ellen handed the phone to Ash, who was monitoring everything.

"Lots of activity in the Big Easy. Definite spike in activity. Riots, freeway pile ups, and bars having to be closed for disruptions...I'm telling you, he's there." Ash said. "Best I can give you I already did, when I passed that file...to...Sam...who's now possessed."

"I have it." John said. "He printed a hard copy and left it behind. I can pick up supplies in New Orleans ...Ash...it's a big city."

"Narrowing down focal points. Should have it done by the time you get there." Ash said. "Let us know if you need backup. Got a bar full of hunters watching CNN."

"Nope." John said. The last thing he wanted was back up. People who wouldn't care if Sam lived or died as long as the demon was expunged. "Got it under control."

"Be careful. Believe me you don't want Ellen to bring you back from the dead just to kill ya. Cause… let me tell ya… what she says she'll do if you screw up… it aint pretty" Ash said with a shudder that could actually be heard through the phone.

John almost laughed. "Yeah.. you tell her I said I'd be careful." He told Ash knowing full well what reaction that would get from Ellen Harvelle.

"Ellen." Ash said and repeated the message.

"You put that son of a bitch on the phone." She said, grabbing the phone. "Now you listen good, John Winchester, you pulled those boys into this war of yours. You better do more than be careful. They're good kids, and they don't deserve this."

"I know, Ellen." John said, wondering why he didn't just hang up when he had the chance. "I'm bringing my boys back. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Ellen shot back. "You're talking to the wrong person on that one."

"I'm not talking about your husband. I'm talking about my sons. The only thing I have left in the world, and the only sign that I've ever done anything worthwhile. I'm getting them out of this." He said and hung up before Ellen started again. He sped the car up, back roads were not fun this way, but he couldn't afford to be pulled over. Not now.

"" "" "" "" ""

Sam walked over to the stereo and found the most relaxing music he could find. One of Jess's relaxation tapes. The sort of thing that would be pure torture for his brother. Soft piano music with the sound of the ocean in the back ground, the occasional sea gull. He wasn't too fond of it himself really. Mostly cause it put him to sleep, but he put it in and went to make himself something to eat in the kitchen. He was hungry. The real him was hungry too.

"Food's a good idea." He said out loud. "You might feed on emotions but the body needs

something more substantial. I like Thai food personally… the hotter the better." He suggested. "I'm sure a big bad demon like you shouldn't have too much trouble with hot." He made himself a ham sandwich and grabbed a beer before going back to the sofa with his book.

"I was thinking babies." Tamiel said with a snort as he found a McDonalds and emptied the place quickly, heading toward the french fries. Dammit, but the brat was right. He'd forgotten that these weak fleshed humans required food. He could get away with the no sleep for a time, but not the no food. He shoved the fries in his mouth, ignoring the burning from the heat.

And that music. He couldn't believe humans came up with that, and had the nerve to call HIM evil!

Sam didn't know how much longer he could keep himself calm. He could mask his emotions easily, pretend for days that nothing was bothering him but that was different than actually keeping them at bay. He couldn't afford to lose it now. If he did all he would be doing was strengthening the monster, giving him more power to fight his family. No wonder this guy wanted Dean. He pretended to be easy going but he was a ball of angst and rage underneath the easy smile and quick laugh. Sam wasn't fooled. Add in the fact that he could withstand things that had flayed people alive… oh yeah… his brother was the perfect host for Captain Misery.

"I never went in for veal." Sam stated. "Too soft."

"You're missing out." Tamiel said with a chuckle as he looked over the mess he had made of McDonalds. All the patrons were laid out in varying poses of surprise and fear, what they had felt before they died. It had just not lasted long enough. He looked in disgust at his fingers, or Sam's fingers, which were blistering from the fries and the grill. "You are all such weak sacks of flesh. How do you survive?"

"By not doing stupid shit." Sam said, glad that he was disconnected from his body in that moment. "Please tell me you aren't leaving finger prints at a crime scene." He said. "You're gonna need to take care of those hands or you won't be able to do much with them."

"I'm leaving lots of fingerprints. I can't wait for the law enforcement to come after me." Tamiel said as he found a first aid kit and bandaged his hands. "And you live your life doing stupid shit. You really think you can take on all that falls outside your narrow definition of normal and survive? Or even make a dent worth making? It's a waste of time, and a waste of death. Your deaths will be as meaningless as your lives, yet you are happy with that. Happy with the fact that every step you take puts someone you claim to love in danger. Your birth doomed your mother. Your love doomed your girlfriend, and now your loyalty will doom your brother and father. They say I am evil? You're a walking doom and you don't even care."

There was a twinge. A seed of guilt and sorrow that the demon had found and urged to grow, but Sam beat it back into submission even though it took everything he had to do it. "No… your kind brought the doom. Me and my family? We save people from monsters like you. I'd say we made a really big dent or we wouldn't have even been on your radar. You challenged God and lost. Now you're spending eternity in some passive aggressive temper tantrum. Can't hit God so you're going after His favorite charity case… humanity." Sam picked up his book. "Down right pathetic if you ask me."

"Says the man trapped in his own mind." Tamiel snorted as he left the McDonalds. "Is it nice and safe and warm there? Because you'll be in there until your meat sack finally dies. Strange concept, isn't it? Just me and you, and you hate me. Rightly so, and I don't care. But it's my voice you'll hear, as you hear your own voice destroying your family."

"No… you will go to hell where you belong and I will die and go on to what ever I've earned My father won't hesitate to destroy us both if he has to. Might kill himself afterwards but you and Azazel… you'll still be back in hell having to claw your way out again, and I will be sitting back laughing, because trapped in my own mind or not… my soul belongs to me… and always will."

"Your father will hesitate." Tamiel said. "And that will give us the opportunity to kill him. Get him out of the way so I can tamper with Azazel. Maybe we'll do a trade, we can be reasonable beings once a millennium after all. I want your brother, and he wants you. So bad he can taste it for these past twenty years. Now that you have your abilities, it's finally time for that little war he wants. He always dreams small."

"My father doesn't hesitate" Sam said and he honestly believed it. "So tell me about this war. "

"" "" "" "" ""

John had to pull over an hour later, the pain was starting to get to him. He didn't want to think about what it could mean. Didn't have time to think about it, or take care of it. Instead he fished around in the back for the first aid kit and downed a few ibuprophen and half a lortab. It would hold it back for a little while at least. "Coffee… gotta stay awake." He told himself and got back on the road, figuring he would stop at the first diner or gas station along the way and get a thermos for the road. He couldn't afford to sleep now. No matter how tired he was.

And he was tired. Worn out physically, emotionally, everything. Hearing the news about Sam, having to restrain his other son, the mess with Tommy...poor Tommy. And still so many unanswered questions. He wished Pastor Jim was still around. He was good at that metaphysical shit. John wasn't. He just knew he was here, again, and had to stop his sons from dying, again. Even if it was just the death of their souls he was trying to prevent. The demon had Sam. Not the yellow eyed one, but another one. One he didn't know too much about. Ash hadn't called, which meant there was nothing yet.

He hated shades of gray. And without any information, he was stuck in a shade of gray. If he got the demon out of Sam, it might go straight for Dean, and he'd have to do this all over again. He wasn't sure he could succeed this first time around. Oh, he'd die trying if he had to, he just didn't know if he could do this. He had to try, and he had to shove the doubts out.

It was just the exhaustion talking, he figured, as he pulled through a Dunkin Donuts drive through and ordered a couple of coffees. That should keep him going as he drew closer and closer to New Orleans . A final showdown, then they could all get on with it. Maybe it was time to retire, and force his boys to retire. They couldn't keep doing this. His memories were flooding back. The voice mails from Sam, saying Dean was dying as a result of a hunt gone wrong. Him trapped in his mind as the yellow eyed bastard tried to kill Dean. Dean on life support. Sam's nursery bursting into flames. The shtriga hovering over Sam...so many close calls with them.

Too many close calls. Now this.

"" "" "" "" ""

Missouri was nearly in tears as she pulled into the parking lot of the motel. One that she knew the Impala would find its way to eventually. "Damn it John, go to a hospital." She said as she got out of the car. "Don't do this to those boys again." Soon she was entering the hotel room and setting her bags down. How had this gotten so messed up? She didn't even know if they were going to succeed in this battle. Nothing had been shown to her yet, and no about of meditation would reveal any more. She knew she was needed but she had no idea for what.

Some days she wished that whatever entity it was that had given her these visions would have sent her an instruction manual to go with them. A remote control with buttons for volume, clarity, and most importantly the on and off switch. But it didn't worth that way. She took comfort in thinking that it came from a higher power, otherwise she was left with the reasoning of being on some sort of accidental relay of information. That none of it had any more meaning than tuning in to the evening news. She couldn't believe that. She had to believe she saw what she saw for a reason. And that had brought her running to New Orleans . Scared beyond belief, angry with the Winchesters and worried for them all at once.

This wasn't her world. Demon hunting was just not where she felt she was needed. Helping spirits find their rest, helping the living find their loved ones, helping the police. That was her world. It was ordered and structured and it ran smoothly. This was chaos. This was Alien.

This was hell coming to earth, and not just her narrow little segment of it.

"" "" "" "" ""

Hunters were glued to CNN as they watched New Orleans erupt into chaos. Watching it on the TV above the bar at Harvelle's. A perky newscaster trying to solemnly report on a McDonalds...and the patrons in it being mowed down, with no one even having a chance to call the police. Sounded supernatural to the hunters.

They knew it was. They knew how to track, how to recognize the signs. Outages of radios and TVs, power outages. No storm to explain it. A definite spike in murders, looting and robbery, and who knew what else. This was supernatural all right. Something big was going down in the Big Easy.

And they wanted in. Over Ellen's protests and pleas, during which she gave no information, they all started to file out.

The only saving grace Ellen had, was that it would all be over by the time the hunters managed to get there.

One way or another.

"" "" "" "" ""

"Are we there yet?" Dean said in a sing song voice. For the millionth time. "I think we have to pee."

Azazel groaned in frustration. He'd been driving for days. Stopping only when bodily needs made him. He wasn't stopping this time as he found a coffee cup, filled it, and threw it out the window. "There. Now shut up."

"But are we there yet?"

"In that much of a hurry to fight your brother?"

"In that much a hurry to see your ass get kicked." Dean responded as he started humming a Metallica song, just tapping his 'feet' along to the drumbeat. "So are we there yet?"

Azazel sighed, gathering himself. He was only a day behind Tamiel, and he was catching up fast. This would be what religious scholars called Armageddon, one way or another.

"" "" "" "" ""

Sam could feel the tension rising. Tamiel was bringing absolute chaos, and he was enjoying it. He didn't figure the police would come after them. They never seemed to show up when major demonic activity began. Hunters however would swarm their asses sooner rather than later. That should have made him afraid. And he was in truth worried about his brother and father, but not so much himself. He had know since all of this had begun that he wasn't going to come through it. Not the possession, but strangely since Jessica's death he had come to terms with the fact that there was no escape.

No matter what he had told Dean, there was never going to be a year spent at Stanford law… He was never going to have a home, a wife, children of his own. He was going to die fighting. He would fight and he would win until he lost. Maybe that was why it was so easy for him to hope. Most would think it logical to despair in those moments but not Sam. Fighting was what he did. He fought the monsters, he fought his father, he fought everything that had come in his path to block him his entire life.

Right now the best way to fight, was to not fight at all. Fight took emotions. Fighting took energy and strength and that was what Tamiel wanted to suck out of him. It was what would give him the strength to fight his brother and win. He found himself hoping it came soon, that the fight would be done before he lost the ability to control his emotions any longer.

"" "" "" "" ""

John pulled into the motel 6 and turned off the engine. He was exhausted, but he wasn't here to sleep. He was here to prepare, and to figure out where the battle was going to take place. He paid for his room and took Sam's laptop into the bedroom with him. He had research to do.

Missouri pushed the door open and John took up a defensive posture, relaxing when he saw the psychic. "I could have killed you!" He said as he sat down on the bed with Sam's laptop and started his research.

"None of that is going to do you any good." Missouri said gently, handing him fresh coffee. "It's going to come down to those two boys. It's always had to come down to those two boys one way or another."

"No." John said roughly. "They are not going to kill each other. I don't care what your visions showed. They're going to be fine."

"John, you need to get to a hospital." Missouri said, sitting beside him. "You're all torn up. Inside and out. You can't make it like this."

"Then I won't make it." He said, turning his attention back to the laptop. Missouri smacked him.

"Don't put those boys through losing you again. If they survive, they won't want to."


	6. Chapter 6

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Mia Copa! Character death warning. Well this is the last chapter, but don't worry we are planning the next story in our timeline.

Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think.

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Dean rolled his eyes as he heard his own voice speaking on the phone. "Did you find him yet?" The demon asked in a good imitation of Dean's angry but dealing tone.

"No son I haven't." John answered, looking over at Missouri; he nodded when she shook her head, eyes wide. "Are you okay? Tommy went a little funny on me during the drive. Had to send him home."

"Funny, huh?" The demon said. "Figures. So you can't find him after wasting all that time with your funny friend."

"Look son, I know you're mad at me... And I'm sorry Dean, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'll make sure you're both alright at the end of this. "

"Whatever Dad." Azazel said. "Where are you?"

"Still driving." John lied. "Had to take some time working on the car… Tommy drove us into a ditch, took me forever to get her out."

"Son of a bitch." Azazel said. "How much time did that cost you?"

John closed his eyes. He had given weight to Missouri 's silent warning, but hadn't wanted to believe it. But Dean's lack of interest in the car just proved it. "Not as long as they wanted. I sent his hitchhiker back to hell, but Tommy's in the hospital. Look, I need both hands right now. I'll call you when I know where he is. Promise me you won't do anything stupid?" He said continuing the charade.

Dean's voice gave a growling sigh on the other end of the line. "I'm not going to do anything stupid." He said.

"Alright son. I'll see you soon." John said and hung up, all but throwing the cell phone across the room.

Azazel tossed the cell phone down on the seat next to him. "Son of a bitch knows, doesn't he?"

"You know… normally I really like the way that phrase rolls off my tongue. Son of a bitch… Son of a bitch." Dean repeated in several different inflections. "But man, you just can't deliver it. How did you ever survive this long if you can't even pretend to be me? Huh? Come on the guy's memory is Swiss cheese, he barely remembers his own name, much less what I sound like when I am pissed. And you should have been a lot more pissed off. So there is a chance that he hasn't figured out he left me as a snack treat to whatever came along… like I said … Swiss cheese and all… you coulda whined like a girl and it's possible he would have thought he got me and Sam mixed up in his head… but I wouldn't count on it." Dean didn't want Azazel anywhere near his father. "You wanna be me, you gotta work on the delivery. You may be a big bad demon where you come from but man… you walk and talk like a little bitch. And that's painful to see from the inside. It's like junior high all over again."

"Shut. Up." Azazel growled. Calling HIM a little bitch? Once he was done with this body, he was going to take great pleasure in tearing Dean Winchester apart for the migraines he'd induced. He pulled onto the freeway, heading straight for New Orleans . He was able to scrimp on the sleep, he didn't need rest, so he was making better time than John. Of that he was sure. "I cannot wait for the moment when you can't talk anymore."

"I think you're starting to like me. I really do. You like me. We're buds. Spiritual brothers on the same quest." Dean mocked. "You're going to miss me when I kick your demonic ass out of my perfect body."

"If you could, you would have by now. " Azazel said in a derisive tone. "Even your threats are becoming a bore."

"You sure about that?" Dean asked. "Not like I'm exactly trapped in the back of my own mind twiddling my non existent thumbs here. But you see, I need you to get to Sammy as much as you need me to cover your ass, albeit literally, when your girlfriend starts to smack you around. If you were smart, you'd listen to me. I have a few ideas that just might turn things around for ya… get my brother back in as few pieces as possible." Dean had cheated death often enough that he wasn't scared of it any more, hell possession wasn't exactly scaring him at the moment. He knew this was the end of the line for him. No way there was going to be a 13th hour rescue this time. The mission was the only thing that mattered right now, and that mission was to save Sammy.

"I'm listening." Azazel said reluctantly as Dean gave him a few ideas. "And then I wait for your father to come exorcise us both?" He asked mockingly.

"Are you saying you're afraid of my father?" Dean teased with a smirk. "Either you're afraid of him or you're not. I guess I'm calling that hand right now. Besides, he won't get there in time, he's still driving. He should have been there by now."

"Unless he lied."

"You a betting demon or not?"

"" "" "" "" ""

Missouri sighed as she handed John the cup of coffee. "Why don't you lay down while you're waiting for something to go on?"

"Because if I lay down I'm not looking for things to go on?" He said as he turned on the news. "These things don't just fall in our laps all the time. Neither you nor Sam can control your visions. Ash is doing all he can but I don't know that it's going to be fast enough." He stared at the television with sad, dark eyes. The city was in chaos. Just what it needed after everything that had happened with Katrina. There was so much destruction, so many lives lost, a city consumed with loss and devastation, hope so hard to come by for so many people. It was hard to pin point what part of town would be the key for this monster that had taken his son.

"You have two exorcisms to perform… men have died during one… with far less powerful demons. You could be on your feet for days doing this. Those boys aren't going to die or be lost forever if you close your eyes for a few minutes."

"Not willing to take that chance." He said as he sipped his coffee and rubbed at his eyes. He needed the caffeine, so though it burned his throat, he started chugging it. As Missouri watched.

She was prepared, slipping the pillow under his head as he passed out. Bella Donna. Worked every time. A nice small amount, tasteless, and sedating. She just didn't expect him to drink it so fast as she stretched out in the other bed, setting the alarm for four hours. That should be enough, she hoped.

"" "" "" "" ""

Sam was ignoring everything. Not looking out the windows. The screams were making their way through into his room, and that was enough as he picked up a medical book of Jessica's. Equally as dry as his law books. Biting his lip as he kept everything under control, under wraps. Not giving anything to Tamiel.

He'd been to New Orleans once, pre-Katrina. He preferred to remember it that way. Not after Katrina, and certainly not after what Tamiel was doing. The city was feeding him. He was growing stronger, and Sam couldn't stop him. He just prayed that this would end soon, one way or another.

"He's almost here." Tamiel said, knowing that Sam heard every word no matter how he tried to pretend otherwise. "Just a few short hours and those screams you hear will be Dean's. I know… you think I need him in one piece but you saw what I was able to do with your father, I could easily do the same with your brother. Again… and again… and again. Just so that he can die seeing your face, hearing your voice. That should break him down almost as easily as the final ritual, make him malleable, easy to control in there. And then I will let you die as I take him over. The last thing you will see is me in your brother's eyes. It's quite poetic really."

"If you think my brother is that easy to kill, you're a fool." Sam said, turning the page. "If he was, he wouldn't be on your radar. And if he was, he would have been dead long before he was old enough to legally drink." Fallen certainly had ego problems, didn't they? If they were such weak meat sacks, the Winchester men wouldn't be such big problems, and they wouldn't keep bothering them, right?

"We'll see." Tamiel said as he stopped what he was doing. "Time's up. Let the games begin."

"" "" "" "" "" ""

"There ya go, now you're thinking." Dean said as they watched another of the 'Kids Like Sam' draw the devil's trap on the ceiling. "Get him in there and it's much easier to get him to let go of my brother. I could tell you a few choice words to piss him off but I really can't imagine them coming out of your mouth… well… my mouth really." He said with a chuckle.

"I have someone else coming in to deliver that particular speech, while we take a little walk." The Demon said feeling uncomfortable just watching the seal being drawn above their heads. "In fact I think we are going to take that little walk now. See if we can't find our brothers and get them pointed in the right direction."

"Let's get this show on the road then." Dean said, and began to fidget. He started to whistle in anticipation, drumming out the beat of 'Highway to Hell'. He was anxious to get this over and done with, get Sammy back to their father where he would be safe.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

John woke up with a groan, then a start. Missouri was coming back into the room with food and more coffee. "What the hell did you do to me?" He demanded.

"I drugged you." Missouri said calmly. "Eat. It's almost time." She said.

"Time for what?" John said.

"Didn't you ever read your Bible, John? I mean really read it?" Missouri said, shaking her head as she got her things together. "Just know that it's time. Let's go. We're better off in the same car." She said, ready to ride shot gun in the Impala.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

"This is Pierce Gooden with CNN, reporting outside New Orleans , Louisiana . The governor has called the National Guard in to control the chaos within the city." A man said with a microphone as he looked into a camera. "Looting has been going on for three days, lynch mobs are forming, and as you can see behind me, a recently opened textile factory has been ransacked, causing red dye to leak into the Mississippi River delta. All sanitation has ceased, as the sewer pumps have stopped functioning. The CDC is on alert for various illnesses that can be caused by the sewage spilling into the streets. From the few reports we've gotten from people who have managed to escape the carnage within the city limits, it is indeed as if Armageddon has arrived."

He was far enough away to be safe, but the cameras were still able to capture the fires burning through out the city as the National Guard prepared to march in.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Dean walked through the streets of New Orleans , ignoring the destruction around him, stepping over anything that tried to get in his way. Going as far to kick men out of the way, send them sprawling with unseen power.

"Dude, calm down." Dean said. "Believe me, he'll show."

"They were in my way." Azazel said flatly. "Now is not the time to think I am your friend. Your job is to sit back and shut up and let me claim Samuel."

Like hell, Dean thought. But he was quiet as he watched Sam approach. Cresting over wreckage. And knew just from the posture that this wasn't really his brother.

"Sammy!" Azazel said. "About time you showed up."

Tamiel stepped forward, batting away a locust. "No… not Sammy. Sammy is hiding in his room, probably under his bed like a good little boy. I'm betting your trip here hasn't been nearly so peaceful."

Azazel growled and Dean perked up at the sight of Sam in one piece, the only obvious wounds appeared to be the ones on his hands. He should be able to survive the demon leaving him. "Just remember… don't really kick his ass, cause you don't want to lose Sam after all this work." He couldn't believe he had just said that. But if that was what it took to get him unpossessed it was worth it.

"" "" "" "" ""

Ellen watched CNN and felt her heart sink into her stomach. The fate of the world rested in the hands of John Winchester. "We're doomed." She said shaking her head, as she watched the insects swarming New Orleans . The press was saying it was a result of the sewage, and the dead fish in the river were a result of the dye, but she knew. She knew…. If this wasn't stopped… if they didn't get those boys free and fast… this was the end of the world.

She picked up the phone and called her daughter's cell phone. "Jo, I need you to come home" She sighed. "Please… just come home now." She hung up knowing that her daughter would do as told. Or at least hoping she would

"" "" "" "" "" ""

John frowned. "So where are we going?" He asked Missouri , as he drove. It was going to be a hell of a drive where ever it was they were going to, and not for the first time he was relieved that he was surrounded by a ton of Detroit steel, and not some little bit of fiberglass.

"We're going into the heart of the storm." Missouri said with her eyes closed. John frowned as he fiddled with the radio. According to the news, what he was able to get between static pulses, all around the world the weather was calm. Too calm.

"You know where they are." John said, catching the metaphor. Missouri nodded.

"But that's not where we're going. You'd be proud of Dean. Now take a left."

"I've always been proud of my sons." He said as he steered the Impala, rolling up the window as bugs started to slam and ricochet off his windshield.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Azazel slammed Tamiel back, and Dean winced. "Sorry, Sammy." He said, though he knew his brother couldn't hear him.

"That boy is mine!" Azazel roared. "I have plans."

"You and your plans." Tamiel sneered, wiping blood off Sam's mouth. "You always have plans."

"Are you two going to have a bitch fight like two seventh grade girls now?" Dean said with a sigh.

"Shut up." Azazel said to Dean and turned his attention back to Tamiel. "Give him to me." Eyes glowing golden and yellow, able to be seen in the darkness of New Orleans as a red moon passed across the sun.

"He's not important to me." Tamiel said. "That body is. And I will resurrect it as many times as it takes for it to belong to me." And the next thing Dean knew he was staring at a starless sky, flat on his back.

"Dude...the hair." Dean said. "I've still got stitches you know."

Azazel rose to his feet, or more appropriately Deans feet. "The body can die a thousand times over…doesn't mean I have to go anywhere." He started slowly maneuvering the fight, directing them toward the chosen location. He didn't care if Dean's body took the brunt of the fight. Didn't care if Tamiel thought him weak in those moments, because in the end it was going to be 'The Plan' that won this fight. "You let your emotions rule you. Just like these damned hairless monkeys."

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed at the insult.

"You hit like a girl." Tamiel said in a good imitation of Sam. "What's the matter, afraid your son here won't make it? Oh that's right, resurrection isn't your thing… death is. Hmmm…give up the plan… or… give up the plan… I think the boy was right earlier. You're screwed, I think was how he put it. "

"" "" "" "" ""

John drove like a mad man, cursing and wincing at the innocents he had to drive through and away from. But there was no time to stop and help the individuals now. They would all be dead soon enough if he didn't stop the battle raging… stop his sons.

"Park over there." She told him. "It's better if we walk the rest of the way in. Be careful, John. Those boys aren't the only ones in this fight." She knew that there were minions waiting , and that there was a great deal more to do once... "If we get this right… your boys are gonna be alright." She told him. "But right now that's a pretty big if. "

John parked the car and he and Missouri got out. He was armed, of course. Even humans in times like these were dangerous. Sure it was loaded with rock salt, but it will still hurt like a son of a bitch if shot in the chest. He followed Missouri to an abandoned warehouse, still bearing the ravages of the hurricane and stuck to the walls.

"" "" "" "" ""

"That body can't hold you." Azazel said, as fire started to rain down on the city of New Orleans . People ran screaming, avoiding it as best they could. As two young men stood in the street, both on their feet for the time being, facing off.

"It will hold me long enough." Tamiel said, eyes burning like emeralds on fire as he started toward his brother. Brothers in brothers' bodies. How poetic was this? The symmetry was nearly too much to keep from laughing about.

Sam couldn't help it now. He had to watch. His brother...no, not his brother...coming toward him. With all intents to hurt him in some way. And he marched on toward him, fully ready to kill him. And bring him back for torture.

The wind kicked up, the only place in the world to have wind. Even the seas were calm as the delta rose with its red water, threatening to flood the city once again.

Azazel scowled. His brother was powerful here. More powerful than he had thought possible, and he was very much glad that Tamiel wasn't inhabiting Dean Winchester. A trade wouldn't have been possible, even if there weren't a better plan in the works. Azazel wasn't going to tolerate the competition. He reached out and grabbed Sam's shoulders tossing him in the direction of the warehouse. Resurrection might not be his forte, but he knew those who could. He had children that could heal… it wouldn't be difficult to repair the damage done to Samuel.

" " " " "

John slipped into the warehouse, cautiously, keeping an eye out for trouble, waiting for the followers of Azazel to attack. But they didn't, they were focused on hiding as much as he was. Something was about to happen and they didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. He took in his surroundings and happened to look up at the bottom of a platform in the center of the room and he smiled. "That's my boy… I don't know how… but damn." He said heaving a sigh of relief. That was actually going to make this possible. He started to feel there was hope now.

Missouri looked up at the devil's trap and nodded. Circling the room, staying close to the shadows. Laying down crystals of various sizes and colors at different points. It wouldn't hold Azazel for long, but if John worked fast, it would hold him long enough for John to get into the full throes of an exorcism.

The one Ash found. Different on some points than the Rituale Romanum. And just as dangerous to the exorcist as the exorcised.

" " " " "

Dean groaned as his brother retaliated. Throwing him against a building hard enough for the brick, which had withstood hurricanes and flooding, to crack around him. Feeling his own bones break, even if pain was intangible while he was stuck in his own mind.

Pain Azazel didn't feel either, shrugging off the damage and lifting Sam high into the air and twisting him around like a sock puppet.

"Give him to me." He growled.

"Never." Tamiel said back. "This body will die before it's yours."

"You know," Sam said. "for someone who doesn't like humanity much, you sure are doing it a big favor."

"I'm not doing humanity a favor. That's an unfortunate byproduct of my own plan." Tamiel said as he slammed into the ground, the apartment around Sam rocking with the impact.

Azazel struck again, sending Sam through the metal docking doors of the warehouse, and skidding across the floor.

"Easy there." Dean said. "Let's not break Sam into too many pieces. You still need him, remember?"

"Shut up." Azazel thought at Dean. He growled as Tamiel started to rise to his feet, and lashed out again sending him those last few feet into the circle, and the demon groaned with the pain of it. "I said shut up." Azazel growled. Only to be rewarded with a reverberating "CHRISTO" shouted from within his head.

"And I said leave him alone!" Dean then growled in return, feeling the demon shudder at the name of the Lord.

Sam laughed inside his room as he stared out the now busted windows of his sanctuary. He was looking up at the most beautiful thing he had seen in a very long time. He was looking up at a devil's trap.

"No!" Tamiel screamed. Locked in place. It couldn't be ending, not now! He was defenseless here...

But he remembered it wasn't like Azazel was going to exorcise him. After all, the things referenced were just as abhorrent to him as it was to Tamiel.

John looked on from a shadow, in horror, at his sons. Possessed, one with yellow eyes, one with green eyes. Both beaten within an inch of their mortal lives, Dean barely standing. Though it was probably just the demon that kept him on his feet. Even Dean had his limits.

"Now, John. You have to do it now." Missouri said, starting to sprinkle herself and him with holy water.

"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei Dean Winchester and Samuel Winchester, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem." John started shouting over howling he couldn't find a source for. Voice as strong and strident as he could make it as he held the tattered book in his hands, stepping out of the shadows. He counted on the cipher on his back to stop any physical harm from coming to him. Everything else was fair game though.

His Latin was coming back to him as he prayed for the release of his sons. Looking from one to the other, going as fast as he could.

"No!" Azazel yelled, enraged as he found he too was trapped. He should have known Winchester had lied. The man was slippery as an eel and lied better than most demons he knew.

"Help him." Dean said firmly, as though he actually had a chance at forcing the demon to comply.

"When Hell freezes over. " Azazel growled.

"You hold him down, or this goes all kinds of wrong." Dean said. "And I'm already touching you, remember. I know the ritual by heart so unless you want to be exorcised from the inside out, you fucking hold him down."

Dean's voice joined with the howling as the enraged Azazel lashed out at Tamiel once more, pinning Sam's body to the floor.

John took advantage of the situation stepping with in the circle. He should be safe from anything Tamiel could do. He knelt beside his youngest son's body and touched first his right ear, and then the left. "Ephpheta, quod est, Adaperire." He said firmly.

"Get off of me." Tamiel growled with Sam's voice. "I will tear his body asunder if you utter so much as another word."

"Don't listen, Dad, don't listen. Do this, you can do this… god you can do this." Sam said from within.

He then touched his son's nostrils. "In odorem suavitatis. Tu autem effugare, diabole; appropinquabit enim judicium Dei." He knew he had to ignore all that was being said by the demon. He had to rely upon the hope that his son was still in there. That his soul was still able to hear and see. "Samuel Winchester, Abrenuntias satanae?"

"Yes!" Sam shouted as he stared out through the windows at his father's face.

"He can't hear you." Tamiel said, struggling against Azazel's strength.

"He doesn't need to hear me." Sam said. "All that needs to happen is my soul, that's me, answers."

"Hold him down!" Dean was shouting. "Hold him still!" He said as Azazel recoiled from holy water touching his skin as John worked and spoke as fast as he could.

John noticed the sizzle on his oldest boy's hand, and all he could think was 'get used to it you son of a bitch. It'll be your turn soon enough.' The son of a bitch being Azazel of course.

The boys had demons in them, and all the resilence that came with it. While John was just a mortal man going on pure determination at this point. Pure stubbornness to not lose his sons, not this way. Not to THEM. Never to them. Not his boys. He continued the ritual, voice cracking with exhaustion, falling to his knees beside Sam. He kept going. Because he didn't have a choice.

"That's it." Dean said. "You've got the son of a bitch now." He nodded and waited for his own opportunity. Once Sam was free, he'd start it in his head, and hope that his father hadn't forgotten about him trapped within a demon.

Missouri gave John sips of water as he needed it, giving him all the support she could as he repeated the ritual as often as he had to before Sam's body arched off the floor his voice a ragged scream as Tamiel burst forth the black cloud striking the seal above and dissipated into nothingness.

"Yeah!" Dean screamed out in his mind.

Sam coughed raggedly and curled up into the fetal position as the pain hit him all at once. He moaned lowly and Missouri came and knelt beside him giving him something to drink. "Dean." He said looking toward his brother, standing there with baleful yellow eyes.

"I'll take care of Dean." John said as he stroked his son's hair, and eased back onto his heels taking a deep breath, then another.

Azazel laughed. "Well thank you John, for freeing my boy." He taunted. "I think I'll hang onto this one a little while longer though. Not like he'd survive If I vacated the premises."

"Don't you listen to him, Dad." Dean said. "And you shut the fuck up!"

"I'm not so sure you could survive another exorcism yourself. So let's just call it a day."

John didn't know how much time had passed. A second, days. He didn't know. He just knew he wanted to curl up and sleep for a lifetime. But his eyes were full of dark fury as he turned them on his yellow eyed son.

"I don't care." He said, his voice all but gone. He was pale, sweating, and could barely sit. But he wasn't living in Dean anymore. Even if what the demon said was true...if Dean wouldn't survive without the demon...Dean would rather not survive.

And if the demon was lying, he couldn't remain in Dean. Because that would be the end of Dean. And that John couldn't allow as he threw holy water on the demon, seeing it burn his son's bruised and broken skin, and started the ritual all over again as Missouri kept Sam clear.

Dean sighed and closed his own eyes. He just needed a few seconds in control as he started chanting in time with his father. His voice stronger than John's as it reverberated in his own head. Feeling the demon shudder and fall with each word.

The ritual on Sam had weakened Azazel, though it wasn't meant for him. Weakened him to be in such close proximity to such a holy ritual, seeing as he was a damned being.

He kept throwing himself against the walls of his mind as the ritual continued. As he watched his father tire, and gasp between prayers. Until he was finally through.

"Stop!" Dean shouted, with his own voice, his own hazel eyes. No longer yellow as he grabbed his father's arm. "Stop! Let me go. Just let...me go." He said. Not meaning 'let him go on possessed,' but to kill him. End it now while the body and the demon were weak. "Dad...please...it's killing you. Let. Me. Go."

John shook his head, taking in a ragged breath as he did so. "Never." He told his son, reaching out to touch his face. "Haven't you figured that out yet? I can't let you go. I won't." He leaned in and kissed his son's brow, something he hadn't done since he had been a boy. And with tears in his eyes, he drew the cross in holy water on his brow. It hurt to move, to breath, to speak. Something had ruptured in the car crash, and Sam's exorcism had taken so much out of him, that he was beginning to think that the demon was right. That he wasn't going to make it through the exorcism. That didn't matter, though. He had to try. "Say it with me, son. We'll do this together, and no matter what happens you keep saying it until you are free. "

Dean blinked back tears as he started reciting with his father. Aloud and in his head, until it was just in his head.

"The body is broken." Azazel said. "You remove me, you kill your son. You can die with your son. Go ahead, leaves Sam defenseless for me as he recuperates from what you did to him. You're helping me. Go on, continue."

"Dammit, just shut up!" Dean screamed at the demon as his father paused for breath. He was about to lose his father for a second time. And he could either have it all be in vain or help kick this sorry mother back to hell.

Missouri squeezed John's shoulder as John ignored the demon and kept on. Ignoring the cries of pain from Dean, the pain in himself, the weak moans from Sam. All that mattered was the ritual; it was the only thing he was concentrating on. That and breathing. Breathing was good, but it was so hard. Breathing and chanting in Latin even as the room filled with a brilliant white light. Ignoring the light, staying right where he was, clutching his son's hand as he continued.

Seeing that inhuman arch of the back as Dean screamed, the light blotted out a bit by black smoke, inky and thick as it slammed into the devil's trap.

John let out a ragged sigh, smiling as he squeezed his son's hand, lying down beside him on the floor, too tired to hold himself up. Everything was so fuzzy now. He just wanted to sleep… just… sleep. "We did it…" He said to his son. "You don't have to do this anymore… it's over now." He said as he closed his eyes. "We did it, Mary." He muttered, feeling his last remaining energy fading away.

Sam cried out in pain as he struggled to get closer to his brother and father. "Dad, no." He said. "Don't you dare leave us again."

"Sammy...?" Dean said, barely conscious as he still held onto his father's hand. "Sammy? Dad...?"

Missouri wiped her eyes as she looked out a warehouse window to see a light rain, a rejuvenating rain, starting to fall. As the crowds calmed down and the national guard stood down. "You did it, John." She said and looked at the three Winchester men lying on the floor beneath the devil's trap. "John?"

Dean didn't bother to blink back the tears, just let them fall down his face as he laid there, squeezing his father's hand, who wasn't squeezing back. He was beyond pain, falling into numb. And wondered how far he could fall until there was nothing left, as he closed his eyes.

"You poor boys." Missouri said as she tried for cell reception. Hoping to get an ambulance or something here. Just hoping.

"It's done…" Sam said as he lay his head over his father's fallen form, struggling to stay conscious, afraid that if he closed his eyes again they would be gone when he opened them. The coldness of the concrete was settling in, and he was having such a hard time moving anyway. Massive shoulders shuddered with sobs in spite of the pain that each hitching breath brought him. He had held his emotions so tightly in check for so long that he couldn't control them any more. Then he simply sighed and slid into the blackness.

Missouri turned to face them as she felt the light surrounding them, warmth, and not merely of a physical nature filled the warehouse and she took two steps back without realizing what she was doing. The figure walking toward them was familiar. She had seen it before and couldn't believe she was seeing it again. She had thought that spirit destroyed more than a year ago.

Mary Winchester knelt down beside her men… her husband and sons, touching her boys lightly before resting her hand upon John and saying his name as though rousing him from sleep.

"Mary?" John said, opening his eyes. The years of torment and loneliness wiped from his face with that one action. Gray gone from his hair, lines life had etched in his face erased.

Mary smiled as she touched his face. "Welcome home, John." Finally. The torment was over. But John looked over toward Sam and Dean, the bruises still so vivid. Dean turned his head and opened his eyes.

"Mom." He said, more of a gasp than a word. He knew his mother was dead. But here she was, far from the site of her murder. And her smile was more beautiful than his childhood memories, encompassing all the peace he had ever sought in it.

"Dean." She said and with her free hand reached for Sam. "Oh my boys. So much has happened. Sam, wake up. It's time to say good bye." They'd all earned at least that much.

"Good bye?" Sam asked as he looked at her. "Aren't we going with you?" He wanted to. Wanted to be done with this place and the constant fight to survive. He was tired and he hurt so much. Physically, emotionally, spiritually he hurt so very much.

"No, baby, it's not your time yet. Not either of you." Mary said looking over toward Dean then. "You have so much ahead of you… wonderful things, horrible things… so much left to do. But we'll be here when it's time. Your father and I."

Dean didn't want to leave this warm, encompassing light. Knowing right now that pain awaited him. Pain from his body, pain from his father's loss (again). He wanted to stay with his family, his entire family. Something that hadn't happened since he was four years old.

But John nodded. "You boys did good." He said. "Guess I did something right along the way." His boys, his and Mary's boys, they were strong. They'd held onto their souls against two fallen angels.

"But..." Sam said. "We just got you back."

"I know." John said sadly. "I didn't want it to happen this way, but it's time to move on. And this isn't easy, but you'll be fine. Take care of your brother, Sam." Knowing Azazel hadn't been as careful with Dean's body as he should have been.

Mary smiled again as she stood, helping John stand as well. "You'll know when it's time. But now is not the time." The hereafter wasn't bound by things like linear time. And she saw grandchildren yet to even be conceived. "Now go. Walk that way." Away from the light, away from the warmth. Away from their parents, back to the struggles, and the fights, and the never ending jobs. "Go live."

" " " " "

Sam was cold. The last thing he remembered was warmth, and family, and now he was cold, and he hurt. Everything hurt. "Dean." He managed to get out , hands grasping at the tubes and wires and rail of the bed. "Dean!" He called out again, his voice raw, his throat dry beyond belief. The light he was bathed in now wasn't warm and it hurt his eyes.

"Now you just hush up." Missouri said. "Your brother is right over there..." gesturing to the bed next to Sam's, where Dean did indeed lay in traction. "They had to sedate that boy after he tried to get out of traction if they didn't bring you in here. Caused a big fuss, he did."

"Did...not..." Dean muttered. "She's...lying...I've been an angel." Which got a snort from Missouri in reply.

"You boys are done tore up. And I promised your daddy that I'd watch out for you until you were healed." Missouri said. The paramedics, when they finally arrived, gave her their medical opinion that it was a miracle that they were alive.

"Dad?" Sam said.

"He's been taken care of." Missouri said. "The hunters came by, and they salted and burned him, and I buried the ashes next to your mother."

Sam nodded and swallowed hard, that was hard to take again, but he was with their mother now. He wasn't in pain. "How long have I been out?" He asked as he looked for a water pitcher. His throat was so dry.

Missouri helped him take a drink. "About a week." She said. "Although to be fair that was partly the doctors doing since you were in so much pain." She had to agree that it was a miracle the boys were still alive, and she suspected it had something to do with their mother.

"Traction, huh? Wow. Guess you are gonna get that vacation after all." Sam said, knowing that was a good 6 months in a hospital bed.

"Shaddup." Dean said. "I'm out of here in a few weeks..." Even if he had to cut himself down. His mother was right. There was work to do. "But..." he said, and figured he might as well say what no one else would, "at least we know for sure, this time, Dad's right where he's always wanted to be."

"Yeah." Sam said with a nod. Feeling his loss keenly. But there was hope in there too, and joy for their father. He looked over at his brother. "So, Dean...you still think there's no such thing as miracles?"

**Fini**


End file.
